


To Be Human

by ellebeedarling



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, PTSD, Post War, Romance, Slow Build, minor Steve Cortez/Kaidan Alenko, past EDI/Jeff "Joker" Moreau - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:23:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellebeedarling/pseuds/ellebeedarling
Summary: Shepard has been a soldier so long he doesn't know how to do anything else. Now that the war is over, he decides it's high time he discovers what it really means to be human.**Now with beautiful artwork byshotcein chapter 9!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited about this story. It's my first actual slow burn romance! :) Expect updates once per week. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Shepard’s legs dangle over the side of the bed as he takes in his surroundings for what is probably the last time. The cracks in the wall and the stains in the ceiling of the run-down building are annoyingly familiar to him now. The old place had been hastily repurposed into a hospital following the final battle to handle the influx of wounded soldiers. Somehow, though, it still has that austere medical facility feel, complete with the smell of antiseptic and stale food. 

 

Joker sits beside him as they stare out the window in awkward silence. For the last two months, since waking from his coma, Shepard has watched the workers scurrying like ants as they’ve tried to clear away the rubble and make something at least useful, if not beautiful. 

 

He’s never had much time for people watching, but over the last few months, he’s come to enjoy it. The same nameless faces come and go, day in, day out, and Shepard wonders about their stories - wonders what it would have been like to have been one of the ordinary people who weren’t in charge of a war too big for any one man to handle. His career has taken him all over the galaxy, and he’s seen amazing things - didn’t Kaidan say something similar just before the final battle? But to live the life of the average citizen is something he’s never experienced before. At the moment he thinks he just might like it, though.

 

Good thing, too, since he’s retiring from the military life. Shepard’s implants had gone haywire when the Crucible had fired, and his body will never again do the things it once did. Being a Spectre, a marine, is now out of the question, even though he will still be able to conduct a relatively normal life. Not that he’s intimately acquainted with normal. In fact, Shepard hasn’t been intimately acquainted with anything besides war for so long he wonders if he even remembers how to live. 

 

The air is charged with tension as the two men sit side by side staring at the hive of workers on the ground, and Shepard knows it’s all his fault. He’s the one who fired the Crucible. He’s the one who killed EDI. Everyone knows that. 

 

The former commander kicks at the duffle by his feet. It’s full of his clothing and personal effects from the Normandy. Until the pilot had brought it to him, all he’d had were the clothes on his back and a fat bank account, thanks to his Alliance and Citadel pensions. Hackett has begged him to stay on, offering him a desk job, but Shepard has refused. It’s time he sees what else is out there. 

 

“Hear you’re getting out of here today,” Joker says, breaking the silence of the stark room.

 

“That’s what they tell me.” 

 

Four months spent in a coma after firing the Crucible, then another two spent memorizing these four walls, and Shepard isn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned. Despite the boredom, there’s also familiarity. 

 

He knows every doctor and nurse on a first name basis, even most of their spouses and children. Knows which lost loved ones during the war; which have found new love since. He’s figured out the menu rotation and knows when to pretend he’s too sick to eat. Knows he can never stomach the tuna surprise that likely contains little to no actual tuna. 

 

“So, where are you going to go?” 

 

“No idea,” Shepard sighs, kicking the duffle again. 

 

The idle chatter offers no relief from the tension, and Shepard can’t stand the thought of this permanently marring his relationship with Joker. The pilot has been his friend since day one. He’s been one of the few souls in the galaxy who’d believed in him and stood by him through thick and thin over the years. Since the Normandy's return a few weeks ago, Shepard had been sure that he'd lost that unswerving trust the pilot had always placed in him.

 

Normandy had been missing for months. Shepard had already had time to mourn his friends when the ship showed up out of the blue one day. He’s had a fairly steady stream of visitors since then, but Joker has only come round a few times. 

 

“Guess I could go live with my mom,” Shepard goes on, cringing at the very idea. He loves his mom, knows she loves him, but she can be overbearing. And that’s putting it mildly. Besides, there’s something sort of pathetic about a grown man, in his thirties, being forced to live with his mother again. 

 

“ Yeah, that sounds like fun,” Joker quips. “Listen... I have an apartment on the edge of town. Why don't you come stay with me?”

 

Shepard looks at the pilot, mouth slightly ajar. “Joker... I... Are you sure you'd want to do that?”

 

Joker shrugs. “Truth is, I drew the short straw. It was down to me or James - and he snores like a damn bear - but then I figured, why the hell not? We've lived on the same ship together for years. I mean... I'd rather have you for a roommate than just about anyone else I can think of.”

 

He’s so stunned he misses the joke, and just stares at the man. 

 

“ If you'd rather go live with your mom...”

 

“ No... No, it's not that, it's just...”

 

“ Shepard,” Joker finally turns to face his former commander fully. This is a conversation that’s been a long time in coming. Jeff needs for Shepard to understand that he doesn’t blame him for what happened. Hell if it weren’t for the Commander, they’d all be reaper bait by now. And though he’ll never say it aloud, he still feels responsible for the man’s death over Alchera, for Cerberus. Offering him a place to stay seems like the least he can to make it up to him. Joker waits until Shepard's eyes meet his before continuing, “You didn't kill EDI. The reapers did. I'm not angry with you. I don't hold you responsible.”

 

Before now, Shepard hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear that. Absolution never comes cheap, but Joker is offering it to him freely. Shepard closes his eyes to his friend, to the view outside, to the burning at the back of his throat. “Thank you,” he whispers, hoarse and raspy. 

 

A hand on his shoulder has him smiling for the first time all day. Joker mirrors his expression. “Come on, Commander. Let's go home.”

  
  


**

 

Joker's pre-fab is small and a little messy. Shepard has the fleeting thought that it reminds him of the man himself, but quickly adjusts before opening his mouth. “It suits you,” he says with a small smile and is relieved when Joker chuckles and rolls his eyes.

 

“ Your bedroom's on the left. Mine's the end of the hall. Bathroom's on the right. Really, it would take a complete jackass to get lost in here. Help yourself to whatever food you can find.”

 

Shepard huffs a laugh and thanks his friend. “I really appreciate this, Joker.”

 

“ Well, I just hope you're not expecting me to cook.”

 

“ Well, I'll warn you that I don't do windows.”

 

“ Ah, hell, this is never gonna work out then.”

 

It feels good to laugh, like it's been ages since he's done it. The lightness in his chest is a welcome relief. “I'll just go drop my things off in my room.” All his life, rooms have been assigned to him. This feels normal, routine. New posting, new billet. It's nice.

 

Opening the door to his bedroom, he freezes. A display case holding all his model ships is assembled on the far wall. A much smaller fish tank, holding less than half his fish, is built into the wall above his bed. A bookshelf stands close by, his hamster running around the glass case on top of it, a handful of books on the lower shelves.

 

“ The guys helped me,” Joker says from behind him, causing Shepard to jump. “Figured you'd want something that felt familiar.”

 

“ I... honestly don't know what to say, Joker. This... is incredible. Thank you!”

 

“ Ah, don't mention it. Liara brought the rest of your things to me in the duffel this afternoon. That's the only reason I had it at the hospital. I hadn't had a chance to bring it home yet.”

 

Shepard turns to look at his friend, face splitting into a grin, “What would you have done if I'd said no?”

 

“ Made your ass come down here and clean all this shit up!”

 

“ Well, then, I'm glad I said yes!” Shepard claps Joker lightly on the shoulder. “Thanks, I mean it. You didn't have to go to all this trouble.”

 

“ Says the man who died once and nearly died again to save us all from horrible monsters. Trust me, Shepard. Having Vega and Cortez install a few shelves to house your ridiculous collections of toys and pets was nothing compared to that.”

 

Shepard laughs again, and it loosens his chest, makes him feel better than he's felt in ages. “Guess I'll finish unpacking, then.”

 

“ Alright. There's mostly just MRE's and rations, so whenever you get hungry...”

 

“ Got it. Thanks, Joker.”

 

“ No problem, Shepard.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard's first night in Joker's apartment doesn't go very well. The next day isn't much better.

A grating noise reaches his ears, and Shepard feels as though he is falling, flailing.

 

_ Shepard! _

 

Fear claws at him, tearing him open, leaving him exposed and broken. He can't stop moving. The faces, the voices, they torment him, and he just has to keep going. Has to get away.

 

_ Commander! Wake up! _

 

The noise and motion stop suddenly, and all he can hear is the sound of his own heavy breathing. Realizing he isn't alone, he strikes out at the other person in the room. “No!” he shouts, and belatedly registers a grunt of pain, the thud of something heavy hitting the floor.

 

“ Shepard, it's just me,” a steady voice says, and it sounds so familiar. “You were having a nightmare.”

 

“ Joker?” Shepard blinks again and again, trying to force the world back into focus. “Shit!” he exclaims when he finally gathers his bearings enough to realize the pilot is on the floor. “Oh my god, Joker... I'm so sorry!” He scrambles to help his friend up, careful to be extra gentle. What a way to repay the man's kindness, by trying to kill him on his first night here. “Fuck, I'm-”

 

“ It's fine, Shepard. I'm fine,” but his hiss of pain belies his words.

 

“ The hell you are. Come on.” Shepard leads him carefully toward the kitchen, flicking the overhead light on as he goes. Both men squint at the irritation to eyes accustomed to the dark. He eases Joker into a chair, then notes with horror the rapidly darkening skin on his upper right arm. “Goddamnit, I think I broke your arm!”

 

“ Yeah,” Joker finally admits, watching the Commander's face fall.

 

“ Fucking hell.” Shepard quickly calls Chakwas, who looks less than impressed by being awoken at zero three thirty, but the doctor arrives less than thirty minutes later, confirming Shepard's fears. “Fuck!” he spits again.

 

“ Come on, Shepard,” Joker tries to appease him. “It's not like you did it on purpose.”

 

“ Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better, Joker. I broke your fucking arm!”

 

“ To be fair, it doesn't take much.”

 

“ Don't beat yourself up over this, Shepard,” Dr. Chakwas chides gently. “Jeff explained what happened. I'm honestly more worried about the nightmare you were having. Do they happen frequently?”

 

“ No need to go all psychoanalytical on me, Doc,” Shepard sighs. “They're no worse than usual, and Joker's the one who needs your attention now.”

 

“ I'd like to see you later on today, just the same. Preferably at a more reasonable hour.” She yawns to emphasize the fact that it is still before dawn. Finishing the bandage on the pilot's arm, she packs her supplies away. “Thirteen hundred hours, Shepard. I won't take no for an answer.”

 

“ Fine,” he sighs again, waving dismissively. “I'll walk you out.”

 

Shepard stays outside for awhile staring up at the predawn sky. The atmosphere is still hazy with the dust and debris of war, but without the typical light pollution of London, he can still make out a few stars shining brightly enough to penetrate the dense layer. The world is slowly righting itself, but Shepard still feels all wrong. Since he'd woken up on Lazarus station well over a year ago, there's been this gnawing in the pit of his gut – an unsettled feeling like he simply doesn't belong in this world anymore. A consequence of having spent two years dead, no doubt.

 

Boots scuffling over ground make him turn his head to see Joker hobbling toward him. “Not even going to try to go back to bed?” the man asks.

 

“ Nah...” The vestiges of the nightmare remain. The forest. The boy. The voices of Ash, Thane, Jenkins, Mordin, and countless others reminding him of each of his failures over the years. He wonders if the others suffer similarly. Does Kaidan have nightmares like this? He's seen most of the same things Shepard has. What of James? James had still been eager and ambitious when Shepard had first met him, much like Jenkins had been.

 

“ I have them too, sometimes,” Joker confesses. “I guess we probably all do.”

 

Shepard actually chuckles at the pilot's seeming ability to read his thoughts. It's foolish and even a little conceited to think he'd be the only one to suffer this way. They've all been through hell in a million different ways since leaving Arcturus station that fateful day so many years ago. The Normandy's maiden voyage. The last day of both Jenkins' and Nihlus' lives. The first time anyone realized there was something more, something dangerous, lurking in the shadows, ready and willing to destroy them all. “I guess,” is all he says. “I reckon no one's immune to PTSD.”

 

“ Not even the great Commander Shepard,” Joker says quietly. A moment's pause, then he adds, “It doesn't make you any less strong, just... more human.”

 

“ I can assure you that I am very human, Joker." 

 

“ Hows about I fix us some coffee and we can watch the sunrise together?”

 

“ You're the one with a broken arm,” Shepard says with a grimace, “let me make the coffee.”

 

“ Ah, guilted you into doing my bidding already. I take it black,” Joker calls over his shoulder as Shepard heads inside.

 

**

 

His mother visits him later that morning, and glad as he is to see her, he just isn't in the mood for her company. “John?” she questions as he sits on the couch staring at the floor. Joker had gone to work on base, leaving Shepard to his own devices, and John doesn't want to admit how lonely it is around the apartment without the man there. Still, his mother's presence doesn't negate the loneliness; rather, it is somehow intensified.

 

“ Ever think about dad?” Shepard asks suddenly.

 

“ All the time, sweetheart,” Hannah says sadly. “I still miss him every day.”

 

“ Me too.”

 

She slides closer to him on the couch and wraps an arm around his shoulder, and inexplicably, he leans into her and begins to cry. It's been years and years since he can remember crying. Even all the times he'd been shot during his career hadn't caused tears to flow like this. The one time he'd fancied himself in love in his early twenties and had his heart broken by Kathryn Morrison may have been the last, and even then, he hadn't cried like this. This hasn't happened since his father's funeral, he supposes. Still, he is powerless to stop the flow of tears or the sobs that wrack his body. Hannah holds her son tightly, letting him weep, and though she doesn't know the exact reason for his tears, she can easily guess.

 

Her son is a man of action, and has been since he was a child. His fantasies and daydreams about commanding his own starship, of being the hero and saving the day, had driven him until they'd become reality, and now that he's done everything he can possibly do, given everything he has to be the hero everyone needed him to be, he has no purpose, no direction in his life.

 

The years have been hard, for both of them, and as much as his body needs time to rest and heal, his heart and mind need it all the more. Lesser men would have been utterly broken by the things John has seen and experienced, but he's managed to not only survive but thrive during all the stress and strain of the war. Now that there is nothing to do but think, the doubts, failures, and horrors have had time to catch up with him. War is never pretty, but the Reaper War had been something that no one in human history could ever have conceived of. Hannah has to admit that even she is in awe of the tales she's heard of her son's accomplishments. 

 

John curls into a ball on the sofa, resting his head in her lap and weeps like a baby while she strokes his short hair. It has been so long since she's seen him with anything other than a buzz cut, that what little there is seems outrageously long. Her mind is transported to nights decades ago when she'd held onto him after his nightmares, scraped knees, and bruised egos. And in her mind's eye, she doesn't see a six foot five inch war hero, Spectre, marine; she sees a sad, scared little boy who simply needs his mother's comfort.

 

He cries until he falls asleep, and Hannah waits, silent tears working their way down her own face. Once upon a time, she'd been pretty in her own right; now she is just an Admiral in her mid-sixties, and her face shows her age rather clearly. John looks nothing like her – a carbon copy of his handsome father. It's heart wrenching sometimes, looking into her son's eyes and seeing her deceased husband there, but she is grateful that a piece of him lives on. And while John had received none of her looks, he'd received all of her compassion, the poor thing. The decisions he'd been forced to make during the war weigh heavily on him, she knows. Now with nothing but time on his hands, it's evident that he’s stewing over every little thing, wondering how many more he could have saved if only he'd done this or that differently.

 

Hannah is dozing with her hand on John's shoulder when he finally begins to stir. She awakens to find him sitting awkwardly on the other end of the couch, face stained with dried tears and red with embarrassment. “Why don't you go get a shower, honey, and I'll make us some lunch?”

 

Shepard nods and quickly takes the exit his mother has provided for him, and Hannah digs through the cupboards to see what she can find to eat. She's never been much of a cook, having spent her childhood romping through the woods with all the little boys of their community and carefully avoiding anything that remotely resembled housework. As soon as she'd been of age, she'd joined the Alliance and learned to subsist just fine on MRE's and mess hall chow. Her son had acquired similar tastes, so she simply digs out a couple of the prepared meals and heats them while she waits for him.

 

He returns just ten minutes later, looking much better after his bath, wearing a pair of jeans and an N7 hoodie. His feet are bare though, and she can't help but grin. Even grown as he is, well over a foot taller than her and still broad and muscular despite his recent round of life threatening injuries, he is still and always will be her little boy. “Feel better?”

 

“ Much. Thanks.”

 

“ Come on, let's eat.”

 

They engage in idle chit chat while they eat their meals, and Hannah finally drums up the nerve to ask, “Want to talk about it?”

 

John sets his spoon down and stares out the window. “I don't even know where to begin,” he confesses. “I have to go see Chakwas in an hour. I had a nightmare last night and... broke Joker's arm when he tried to wake me. She wants to give me a psychiatric eval I suppose.”

 

“ She's just doing her job, John. And she's been your primary physician for years. I'm sure she's concerned about you.”

 

“ She mothers me a lot,” he says with a weak smile.

 

“ I'm glad. Even Commander Shepard needs someone to look out for him now and again.”

 

John snorts, rolls his eyes. “Not a Commander anymore. I'm... actually pretty glad.”

 

“ Are you sure?”

 

“ I can't go back,” he says quietly. “If I never have to hold a gun again, it'll be too soon.” He stares down at his calloused hand, reflexively holding it as though his pistol were in its grip. He shudders, then rubs his fingers together before clenching his hand into a fist.

 

“ It's natural,” his mother assures him.

 

“ You don't seem to have a problem with it,” he replies bitterly.

 

“ I was on the science team constructing the Crucible, John, not wading into dead bodies day in and day out. There's an enormous difference.”

 

She doesn't miss the way he flinches at the mention of dead bodies. He has all the signs and symptoms of classic PTSD. “Go talk to Chakwas,” she urges. “I really think it will do you some good.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for reading and commenting!! 
> 
> Much love,  
> Elle


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard is depressed; Joker tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting! I'm so excited about the response I've gotten to this story! :)

Joker opens the door and the overpowering odor of disinfectant hits him squarely in the nose. Stepping inside, his mouth falls open at the sight before him. Shepard has cleaned the house from top to bottom; nothing is out of place. The man himself is on his hands and knees in the middle of the kitchen floor, scrubbing at a stubborn stain with a coarse brush. He doesn't know if Shepard hadn't heard him come in or is just so absorbed in what he is doing that he doesn't care. “Shepard?”

 

The man looks up, startled, relaxing when he sees it is only Joker. “Hey... sorry... I'm going stir crazy.” He drops the brush into the bucket and scratches his nose with the back of his wrist.

 

“ Fine by me. Maybe I'll get you to do those windows after all.”

 

“ Already done,” Shepard says dryly.

 

Joker chuckles and makes his way to the couch, almost waiting for Shepard to rebuke him for tracking dust over his freshly cleaned floor. He doesn't though, just sits on his knees in the kitchen looking lost. The tightness in Joker's chest takes him by surprise. “How'd it go today with Chakwas?” he asks cautiously.

 

Shepard shrugs. “I've got to go back every week. Guess she thinks I'm going nuts.”

 

“ No she doesn't. She just wants to keep it from happening.”

 

“ What's the difference?” Shepard stands, fishing the brush out of the bucket and depositing it in the sink before stepping outside to dump the water out. “This place was filthy, by the way,” he scolds as he replaces the bucket underneath the sink.

 

“ Well, I'll have to fire the maid then.”

 

Shepard chuckles, then announces, “I kinda want to get drunk.”

 

“ I know just the place. Come on.”

 

**

 

It occurs to Joker that he's never actually seen Shepard drunk before. Drinking, yes. There had been the obligatory celebrations after defeating Saren and then the Collectors, and of course there had been times in the port side lounge on the Normandy when the ground team would gather – graciously letting Joker and Cortez join in – to share a few drinks and laughs and just generally unwind after a particularly tough mission. The party at Anderson's apartment might have been the closest he'd ever come to witnessing drunk Shepard, but the mood that night had been decidedly more upbeat than tonight.

 

Watching Shepard brood with his cheek on his fist as he downs shot after shot of cheap rum isn't exactly how he'd hoped to see Shepard getting drunk. The man has a fun side. One he rarely lets others see. On the  _ Normandy _ , he'd mostly been all business, and Joker can't help wondering exactly how long it has been since the Commander’s really cut loose and let himself unwind.

 

“ How long's it been since you got laid, Shepard?”

 

The question is out of the blue, and John's eyes bug out of his head as he gawks at the man. “Uh...” Then he frowns, brows drawing toward the center of his face. “Hell, I don't even know,” he admits dejectedly.

 

“ Why? It's not like you haven't had plenty of opportunity.”

 

Shepard rolls his eyes. “I'm a professional, Joker. I'm not going to sleep with my subordinates or random asari who throw themselves at me.”

 

“ What about prostitutes?”

 

“ I have  _ never _ had to pay for sex, thank you very much!”

 

Joker thinks the man sounds offended by the very idea. “That mean you never did it with Sha'ira?”

 

“ I didn't pay her!”

 

The pilot's eyebrows rise sharply. “But you did, didn't you?”

 

“ It's really none of your business, Joker,” Shepard declares, downing his shot and pouring them both another.

 

“ Oh, come on. Aren't you jarheads renowned for bragging about your sexual conquests?”

 

Shepard sighs. “If you can look at me and see a stereotypical marine, then I feel like I've failed in some way as a Commander. Besides, Vega is as stereotypical as they come, and you never hear him bragging. Nor Alenko either.”

 

“ Alenko is anything but a stereotypical marine. Besides, I'd guess it hasn't been long for him at all.” The pilot waves a hand toward the other side of the room, and Shepard sees Kaidan and Steve Cortez swaying back and forth to the slow song trickling through the speakers. He smiles. Kaidan had once offered him more than friendship, but he honestly just had never seen the man that way. They are friends, brothers – a fact that Shepard had assured him of after letting him down as gently as possible. Seeing him with Steve now, his smile widens – a genuine gesture that crinkles the edges of his eyes.

 

“ Good for them,” Shepard murmurs.

 

Joker watches the man, taking interest in the smile that lights his face. He looks much younger, less burdened when he's smiling, and the pilot wants to see more of it. Shepard has been mostly serious as long as he's known the man, but now the burden has been lifted and the war is won. There is no need for him to continue holding happiness at bay with one hand while struggling to save the universe with the other.

 

“ You into guys?” Joker asks.

 

“ Why, you offering?” Shepard grins at the pilot, and Joker chuckles.

 

“ Uh... not that the attention would be unwelcome,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing toward a man at the bar, “but that dude's been staring at you all damn night.”

 

Shepard glances in the direction of Joker's finger and locks eyes with a fellow marine who lifts his glass of beer in greeting. “He is cute,” Shepard admits, returning the gesture and finishing off another shot.

 

“ So, go talk to him.”

 

“ I don't think so.” He pours another shot of rum, noticing that Joker hasn't touched his last one. “Drink,” he orders, with a mock scowl.

 

Laughing, the pilot obeys, and Shepard refills his cup instantly. “Come on Shepard. What could it hurt? You're not in the Alliance anymore. Live a little.”

 

He watches as Shepard turns the idea over in his mind, stealing looks at the man, who is still watching him with interest. “Fuck it,” he mutters and downs his drink.

 

“ That's the spirit, Commander!”

 

Shepard rolls his eyes but grins. “Don't wait up,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks away.

 

**

 

“ How'd it go last night?” Joker asks as Shepard staggers into the kitchen and flops onto a chair at the kitchen table. He slides a cup of coffee toward the man, watching as he rubs the sleep from his eye with a fist.

 

“ Not bad,” Shepard says with a shrug. “I've had better.”

 

Joker laughs, “Why am I not surprised?”

 

“ Still better than nothing, I suppose.” He sips his coffee and gazes out the window. “Nice day today.”

 

“ For once. I swear, London has the shittiest weather.”

 

“ Mmm,” Shepard nods in agreement. He seems to realize the late hour and looks at the pilot. “Not going to work today?”

 

“ Saturday. I don't have to work today.”

 

“ Want to do something?”

 

“ Why not?”

 

“ Uh... what is there to do?”

 

A town is springing up on the outskirts of London proper, away from the most severe damage. Still, other than the club they'd gone to last night, one old movie theater, and a few restaurants there aren't a lot of entertainment options available.

 

“ Well, we could go grab lunch. I don't know about you, but I've about had my fill of packaged, over processed food for the week.”

 

“ There are places with real food?”

 

“ A few, yeah.”

 

“ Sounds fantastic. My treat!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard learns a few things about himself.

“ How's your arm?” Shepard waves his fork in Joker's general direction before jabbing it into the pristine yellow yolk of his egg, watching with interest as the golden liquid spreads over his potatoes and around his plate. Using his toast, he sops up a bit of the yolk and takes a bite. It's heavenly, and he realizes that this is the first bite of something that didn't come from a cardboard box that he's had since he'd gone to Apollo's with Kaidan during the war. That had been seven or eight months ago – at least. Time gets funny when you are in a coma for four months and then relegated to endless days of inactivity.

 

“ Fine,” Joker says. “Already better, barely sore. The drugs they have nowadays for healing bone and muscle are a damn sight better than those available even during the hunt for Saren.”

 

“ I'm glad. I still feel like shit about that.”

 

“ Don't mention it, Shepard. That looks really gross by the way,” the pilot gestures toward his plate at the mess his eggs have made.

 

“ Tastes good, though,” Shepard grins.

 

“ I'll take your word for it.” Joker lifts his burger off his plate and takes a bite, letting out a moan of satisfaction as he chews. “Damn I love horseradish.”

 

A chuckle sounds from the other side of the table, and Shepard scoops up a bite of the fried potatoes coated with runny egg yolk and stuffs it into his mouth.

 

“ There's an old movie theater that just reopened on the other side of town if you want to go. I think they're playing remakes of old classics right now, since no new movies are being made.”

 

Shepard pauses to look at his companion, then shrugs. “Sounds good, but... you sure you don't have something better to do than trying to keep me entertained?”

 

“ Just figured you could use the distraction,” Joker mutters.

 

“ You think I'm going crazy, too?” Shepard asks quietly.

 

“ Not at all, well, no crazier than you've always been,” he adds. “Just... I know what happens when you have too much time to sit and think.” The pilot swirls a fry around in his ketchup, then scrapes up a dollop of horseradish that had dripped out of his burger, but he never actually brings it to his mouth.

 

Shepard sets his fork down and really looks at the man in front of him. “This about EDI?”

 

“ Yes... and no. It was hard at first, having her gone. I know plenty of people thought I was crazy for... being in love with her, or whatever, but...”

 

“ I never thought it was crazy, Joker,” Shepard tells him softly. “EDI was as much a real person as you or I. What's wrong with falling in love with someone you share common interests with and are attracted to?”

 

“ You ever been in love, Shepard?”

 

“ Once... a long time ago.”

 

“ What happened?”

 

“ She didn't love me back,” he admits ruefully, staring down at the mess of food on his plate, appetite suddenly leaving him.

 

“ That's kind of surprising, actually.”

 

“ Why's that?” Shepard raises an eyebrow at him, genuinely curious.

 

“ Well, considering the number of people who've been in love with you over the last few years.”

 

“ None of them were in love with me, Joker. Just the _ idea  _ of me. You know how it goes. Someone well known and powerful. None of those were ever much more than just hero worship.”

 

“ How do you know?”

 

Shepard tosses his napkin on his plate and pushes the whole thing away, drains his coffee mug before answering. “Look at Kaidan. He moved on rather quickly after I turned him down. That's not love. You know that as well as I do. It was nothing more than a spark of attraction. Real love doesn't leave you so easily.”

 

“ Took you a long time to get over your girl, then?”

 

“ Yeah. I suppose it did.”

 

“ It's kind of nice talking with you like this,” Joker says, finally eating the fry he'd been playing with.

 

“ What, prying into my sex life and grilling me about my broken heart?” Shepard teases, leaning his forearms on the table and linking his fingers.

 

“ Like I said... just makes you more human.”

 

“ You didn't think I was human before?”

 

“ Knowing it and  _ seeing _ it are two different things. On the Normandy, you were more... like a machine, I guess.”

 

“ Ouch!” Shepard laughs.

 

“ I mean... you've always been great at checking on us, but anytime any of us tried to reciprocate, well... you didn't handle it well.”

 

“ How do you mean?” he asks with a frown.

 

“ Remember the  _ one  _ time I tried to tell you I was concerned about your stress levels, and you bit my damn head off?”

 

“Come on, that was-”

 

“Or how you were always saying idiotic shit like, ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead,’ whenever anybody dared to suggest that you might be tired.”

 

“Joker, I-”

 

“Or-”

 

“Enough!” Shepard huffs, glances away. “You made your damn point.”

 

“Or, or-”

 

Shepard sighs, waving his hands to cut the man off. He misses the pilot’s grin as he stares morosely at his unfinished plate.

 

“ Oh, hey, your mom came by this morning while you were still sleeping.”

 

“ Guess I should go call her back then. Since I'm paying for breakfast, you can pay for the movie,” he winks. “I'm just going to step outside and call her.”

 

“ I'll be done in a minute.”

 

**

 

Shepard props his feet up on the small stack of crates in front of him, leaning back in his chair and taking a swig of his beer. Joker does the same and they watch the sun sinking into the distance. Somehow the hazy atmosphere intensifies the magnificence of the sunset, and it is the most beautiful one he can recall from recent memory. Come to think of it, he can't remember the last time he's stopped to really enjoy a sunset. He saw them all the time, but like everything else, he's taken them for granted all these years.

 

Reflecting back over the last decade, bizarre death and resurrection notwithstanding, it occurs to him that he hasn't actually had much of a life. Other than a couple short lived romances, he'd mostly engaged in one-night stands as his source of companionship. Much like the marine from last night, the encounters left him largely unfulfilled. More than that though, he barely knows what he enjoys doing. All his life has been spent on ships, moving with his parents from one posting to another, then following orders for his own assignments once he'd enlisted. This is the first time in his entire life he actually has a choice where to live. That he is living with Joker is still a little surreal at times. But hell, it's only been a couple days. They haven't had time to get on each other's nerves yet.

 

“ Do you think I'm boring?” Shepard blurts.

 

“ Uh... is this a trick question?”

 

“ No, you ass,” Shepard sighs. “I was being serious.”

 

“ Not.... boring... per _se_...”

 

“ So, yes?”

 

“ Sorry, Commander, it's just-”

 

“ I'm no longer a Commander, Joker.”

 

“ Sorry, Shepard, it's just... like I said earlier, you've kind of kept yourself closed off from the rest of us. That was by necessity, I get that, but it makes it hard for people to get to know you.”

 

“ I'm not human,” Shepard concludes.

 

Joker sighs and lifts his cap to scratch his head. “What do you like to do for fun?”

 

Shepard frowns. What does he like to do for fun? He'd taken up assembling model ships as a way to pass the time. Does he find it fun? Not particularly. It isn't exactly boring, but it was more something that served a specific purpose - keeping his mind occupied -  than entertained him. “Hell, I have no idea.”

 

“ See? How can you expect others to see you as human when you don't even see yourself that way?”

 

Much as he hates to admit it, the pilot has a point. “What do you like to do for fun, Joker?”

 

“ Fly.”

 

“ You fly for work,” Shepard reminds him.

 

“ Which just means that I'm one of the lucky bastards who gets paid to do what he loves.”

 

“ Well, good for you, then.” They let the silence stretch, comfortable and relaxing. Shepard racks his brain for anything that he's enjoyed doing during his life. As a younger man, his shore leaves had been spent trying to get drunk and laid as much as possible, not exactly worthy pursuits. Since becoming a Spectre, he hasn't even had time for that. Going to the movies with Joker this afternoon was the first time in years he’s done something purely for fun, but he decides quickly that movie watching isn't going to be his thing.

 

Thinking back on the few times he's been stationed planetside, he's reminded that he's always enjoyed doing things outdoors, in nature. “I used to enjoy kayaking,” he muses. “And hiking.”

 

“ Well there you go. It's a start.”

 

**

 

Sunday is spent at his mother's, and he figures Joker is probably glad for the reprieve. She, of course, grills him on everything he's been doing for the last forty eight hours. He tells her everything – well, except the bit about going home with the guy from the bar the other night; he suspects she doesn't want to hear about that anyway. He even relays most of what he'd told Chakwas during his therapy session. Most of it isn't a secret. There are only a few things he feels the need to keep to himself, so as not to worry her without cause.

 

It isn't as if he is severely depressed, perhaps only mildly so. Hearing from Joker that no one sees him as human hasn't helped on that score, though. Realizing he has absolutely no life hit him pretty hard. Hell, he doesn’t even know who he is apart from being a soldier, much less what he’d want from life if he did have one. He'd stayed out last night long after Joker had gone to bed, regretfully finishing off the twelve pack of beer they'd purchased. During his drunken meditation, he'd come to the disappointing realization that not only does he have no life, he has no idea how to go about getting one.

 

“ Do you feel well enough to go back to work?” Hannah asks him as he stares morosely at his cup of coffee. Yesterday had been sunny, if cool; today the drab rain is back, drizzling enough to make it uncomfortable to walk outside.

 

“ I need to do something. Hell, I'm going nuts just sitting around that apartment.”

 

“ You've only been there two days,” she laughs.

 

“ I've been sitting on my dead ass for months now, mom,” he reminds her.

 

“ True. So, what are you thinking about doing?”

 

“ I'm an engineer. Figured I could do just about anything I wanted. If anyone will hire me, that is.”

 

“ You'll get hired,” she laughs again. “In fact, I have it on good authority that the Alliance would be willing to hire you on as a civilian contractor.”

 

“ I suppose that would be a good fit,” he reflects. “I'm a combat engineer though, not civil. Not sure that I'd be good at building infrastructure.”

 

“ You could learn.”

 

“ I take it Hackett is your 'good authority?'”

 

His mother passes him a datapad. “I told him you were visiting today, and he gave me this. A complete job offer along with a contract.”

 

“ You two have planned this out to a tee,” he muses, finger rubbing the side of the pad absently. “I'll think about it. Promise. I sort of wanted to do something a little more... civilian.”

 

“ Want to see what else is out there?”

 

“ Why not?” He drains his coffee and stands, picking up the datapad with Hackett's offer, then bids his mother goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. At the door he pauses and looks back at her. “Mom, what do you like to do for fun?”

 

Hannah's eyes widen, and she gapes at her son. “Hm... That's an odd question, son.”

 

“ Humor me?”

 

“ Well, I enjoy reading, playing chess. There's actually a league starting up. Our first tournament is next weekend.”

 

“ You play chess?”

 

Hannah laughs. “Oh son. What's going on?”

 

Shepard shrugs. “Nothing. I'll see you later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! I'm thrilled y'all are enjoying this story!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to look up for Shepard.

By the end of the day on Monday, he has five job offers, each one seemingly better than the last. Part of him feels he owes Hackett something, but Joker reminds him, quite vehemently in fact, that he doesn't owe anybody a goddamned thing. So the offer from Hackett sits at the bottom of the pile while he studies his options.

 

“ NovaTech,” he reads aloud to Joker, “specializing in technical combat options for experienced soldiers as well as modules for civilian self-defense. Experienced combat engineer needed to develop new lines of defense for a changing galactic economy... blah, blah, blah...”

 

“ Get to the good part. What does it pay?”

 

Shepard grins without looking up. “Hundred forty thousand a year plus benefits and retirement pension.”

 

“ You have benefits and a retirement pension. You're entitled to free healthcare for life from the Alliance for your service.” Joker stirs the pot of soup on the stove. It isn't much, but they'll take whatever fresh food they can get their hands on. Even years and years of military service can't make MREs and ration bars more palatable. “Choose the one that pays the most.”

 

“ I also have a sizable income from my Alliance and Citadel pensions,” Shepard reminds him. “I want to choose the one that's most interesting to me.”

 

“ So you can get paid to do what you love?”

 

“ Exactly. I'm a little jealous, to be honest.”

 

Joker turns to face him with a questioning look. “You mean you weren't doing what you loved up until now?”

 

The face Shepard gives him could wither grass. “Killing people isn't as fun as it sounds,” he says harshly.

 

“ Sorry. Meant no offense,” Joker raises his hands in surrender and goes back to his soup.

 

“ Smells good,” Shepard mutters. “I'm starving.” He continues flicking through the datapads, looking up, startled when a spoon appears in his line of vision. With a quick grin toward the chef, he eats the proffered bite. “Damn. Tastes good, too.”

 

“ My grandma's secret recipe. I couldn't get the curry powder she typically added, but better than the chow hall, right?”

 

“ Infinitely,” Shepard agrees. “I don't know if my either of my grandmas had any secret family recipes,” he muses. “They were all dead by the time I was born.”

 

“ That sucks,” Joker says frowning. “My grandma – my dad's mom – was a piece of work. My mom's parents didn't like my dad, so they bugged off before I was born. Never met 'em. But grandma was as feisty as they come. Even my disability couldn't get me on her good side.”

 

“ Got your ass beat just like everybody else, huh?”

 

“ Damn straight. She did sneak me extra cookies sometimes though. I guess that meant she liked me at least a little.”

 

“ Maybe a very little,” Shepard teases. “Hey, did she have any secret cookie recipes?”

 

“ Never knew you had a sweet tooth, Commander.”

 

Shepard snorts. “I have to keep some secrets.”

 

“ No you don't. You've got the looks, the money, the status... hell, you could have your pick of just about anybody you wanted. You don't need to add an air of mystery to all that.”

 

“ If you think it's that easy, Joker, boy are you in for a surprise.”

 

“ You didn't seem to have any trouble getting laid the other night.” He switches off the burner and stirs the soup a final time before ladling it into bowls for the pair of them. Shepard helps get them to the table, and fishes them each a beer out of the fridge along with some crackers from the cabinet.

 

“ Getting laid is one thing,” Shepard says after taking a few bites of his food. Joker watches him swirl the spoon around his bowl a little. “Finding something... more serious, is another.”

 

“ Don't tell me you're thinking of leaving bachelorhood behind! Settling down? Tying the knot?”

 

“ I'd have to find someone to tie the knot with before I could do that, now wouldn't I, but... yeah... I don't think I'd mind it. To tell the truth, Joker, I'm pretty fucking lonely.”

 

“ Join the club.”

 

Shepard huffs a laugh and goes back to his meal, skimming through the information on the job offers. “This one sounds interesting. McConnell-Inglehart Engineering. Help needed in developing medical tech – mobile assistance mechs, prosthetics and the like.”

 

“ Do you know anything about medicine?”

 

“ No, but I know plenty about mechs.”

 

“ Pay?”

 

Shepard rolls his eyes. “Uh...” he flicks his finger along the interface till he finds what he's looking for. “A hundred thousand a year.”

 

“ Not much.”

 

“ Don't need the money, remember.”

 

“ Still... wait! You should definitely take it, then I'll make more money than you.”

 

“ Will you finally trust me?” He grins then takes another bite of his soup. “Damn, Joker, this is really good!”

 

**

 

Orientation at McConnell-Inglehart is strange. The MIE staff – as they're referred to – are all so star struck around Shepard that they can barely perform their duties for the day. It takes him considerable effort to reign in his exasperation. Still, once he's inside the lab he'll be working in, education and experience take over. His assistant is an eager young woman named Bethany Cummings, and after getting caught a second time staring, she's finally able to compose herself and the rest of the day goes off without a hitch.

 

Bethany reminds him a lot of Traynor, the pair of them geeking out over all the tech they're surrounded by. It also reminds him of conversations he'd had with Sam about working in crowded labs because R and D is always so underfunded. The post-war economy hasn't recovered enough for them to have much of a budget, and most of MIEs resources are wrapped up in staff salaries or procuring raw materials for the engineers to work with.

 

Shepard comes home with an enormous medical manual and drops it on the table with a thud. Joker is flipping through it when John comes out of the bathroom several minutes later, freshly showered and wrapped in a towel. He freezes when he sees the pilot, and Joker looks at him, watching him for a few tense seconds before Shepard breaks off and heads into his room.

 

Jeff stares after him until he hears Shepard's door opening again, shaking off the tension he feels coiling in his gut. “So, you going to med school now?”

 

John's wearing a pair of jeans and an N7 t-shirt when he comes back out, and he laughs before bending into the fridge to see what they could eat for supper. “Nope, just thought I'd do my due diligence. If I'm going to be developing medical tech, I should have at least a cursory knowledge of medical practice and procedure... and anatomy.”

 

Joker chokes on a giggle. “The great Commander Shepard needs help with anatomy?”

 

Pulling the pot of leftover soup out of the refrigerator, Shepard rolls his eyes. “Not in that sense,” he says with a smirk.

 

“ Maybe I should go find that guy at the bar and ask him?”

 

“ Be my guest. That guy couldn't find his ass with both hands, but that doesn't mean I didn't make  _ him _ see stars.” Shepard winks over his shoulder, turns on the burner, and grabs a glass of water before settling at the table with his medical book.

 

“ You gonna be studying all night?”

 

“ For awhile anyway. Hit the shower. I think I can handle heating up the soup.”

 

“ Alright.”

 

Joker exits the shower to the acrid smell of burning soup, and enters the kitchen to see Shepard frowning over the pot. “Well, shit. Guess I can't handle heating it up after all.”

 

“ Is your reading that enthralling?”

 

“ Not really,” Shepard frowns into the pot some more. “Come on, get dressed. I'll take us out tonight.”

 

“ Never gonna say no to free dinner.”

 

London is like a ghost town at night. The curfew is mostly responsible for that, but still, it seems like there are too few people living after the war. Joker sometimes wonders if the population will ever recover. Barely more than six months after the war's end, the relays are still shot to shit. There's no way of knowing how many people have survived on other planets, in other systems. 

 

Shepard walks beside him, careful to keep his stride even with Joker's. Jeff appreciates it, though he'll never dare say it. Most of his life people have treated him differently because of his disability, but never Shepard. Not even once. His heart flutters a little at that thought, and he glances sideways at the man.

 

Even after all he's suffered and been through, Shepard is still in great shape. Maybe a little weaker these days. Joker notices he tires easily, loses his temper more quickly than before. All in all, though, Shepard looks like he could rush right out tomorrow and save the galaxy all over again.

 

Shepard gazes at the sky as they stroll down the street, and Joker can't help admiring his form – tall and muscular, almost as muscular as he'd been during the war. His jawline is strong as ever, profile stark and... beautiful. Is he developing a crush on Shepard? It certainly ranks up there with some of his stupider life choices. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters.

 

“ Hm?” Shepard turns his face toward the pilot, the moonlight adding an ethereal glow to it.

 

“ Uh... nothing,” Joker says, looking away quickly and continuing toward the restaurant.

 

Conversation flows naturally, as it has since Shepard moved in with him a week or so ago, much more so than during their time together aboard the Normandy. Shepard is willing to be open and vulnerable with people now that the fate of the galaxy isn't riding on his shoulders. Or maybe it's just with Joker. 

 

He shakes the thought away. These feelings for Shepard are new and somewhat unsettling. For years, he’s just seen Shepard as someone to look up to. He’s not exactly sure when that changed, but he certainly can't afford to add fuel to his hopeless crush. They're friends and roommates, and nothing more. That's all they'll ever be. Feelings come and go, as Joker is well aware. There’s a fluttery kind of excitement when one notices another person in a new way, and Joker is experiencing this at full velocity at the moment. He wonders how he’s never noticed Shepard this way before, while at the same time, hoping it goes away soon. 

 

“ You've been kinda quiet tonight, Joker,” John says with concern, turning his attention away from the pile of chocolate goo in front of him. He can't contain his grin at learning of Shepard's weakness for sweets. It's just another one of those little details that makes the first human Spectre seem more human. “Everything alright?”

 

Shepard's question pulls him out of his own head, and Joker shrugs. “Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

 

“ Want to talk about it?”

 

“ Nah, it's nothing. Really.”

 

Shepard's brows draw together briefly, and Joker thinks he looks hurt – maybe offended – but neither of them press the issue. John returns to his gooey chocolate dessert, though he's just poking at it now, and not actually eating it. “You can talk to me, you know,” he says suddenly. “I mean... we're past commander and subordinate now, right?”

 

“ You're asking if we're friends? Yeah, Shepard. 'Course we are.”

 

The look that crosses his face now is one of relief, and he slowly takes another bite of the chocolate. “This is too much. Want some?”

 

Joker shrugs and dips his fork into the mess. It's rich and overwhelmingly chocolaty. He grimaces and Shepard laughs. “That was a cruel trick, Shepard,” the pilot informs him after swallowing the bite.

 

“ It sounded good on the menu,” Shepard shrugs, then yawns. “Well, I'm disappointed I didn't get any studying in, and I feel bad about ruining the soup.”

 

“ Guess that means I've been demoted to Mess Sergeant from now on,” Joker sighs.

 

“ Does this mean I have to do the windows?” Shepard asks with a chuckle.

 

“ Damn right it does.”

 

**

 

There's another nightmare that night, and this time, Joker is much more cautious as he approaches the thrashing man. “Shepard,” he calls, but John continues writhing. Unsure of what to do, he calls Dr. Chakwas.

 

“ I'm on my way,” Karin informs him, despite the late hour. She rushes into the room, and Joker watches helplessly as the small woman tries to physically hold Shepard down. “Shepard! Commander!” John's eyes spring open, dark and wild, and he snarls at the woman lying on top of his chest. “Shepard, it's me,” she begins, but his large hands around her neck stop the words in their tracks.

 

Shepard rolls them over, straddling Chakwas, and pinning her to the bed. “Where are they?” he growls, shaking the doctor with his hands. “What the fuck did you do to them?”

 

Karin claws at the arms restricting her airway.

 

“ Shepard,” Joker tries, laying a hand on the man's shoulder, but recoils when John turns to look at him, a feral fury in his eyes.

 

“ Joker?” Shepard asks, face falling and eyes returning to normal in an instant. His hands retract instantly from the doctor's neck, and he scrambles off her, scurrying for the corner of his room like a wounded animal. He curls in on himself, drawing his knees to his chest, a mournful string of curses falling from his lips, and for a moment Joker is torn between whom to check on first – Shepard or Chakwas.

 

A cough from the bed has him heading to the doctor's side. “Jesus fuck, are you alright, doctor?”

 

She simply nods and waves toward Shepard indicating that he's the priority. She slips quietly from the room to retrieve her medical supplies, and Joker creeps steadily toward Shepard, who's rocking in the corner. He carefully slides down the wall and places his arm awkwardly around John's shoulder, and to his surprise, the man shifts toward him, burying his face in the pilot's neck, weeping. Joker holds him close, whispering softly to him that it's alright, that they understand, that everything will be fine. His fingers run gently through Shepard's short hair, and it is still odd to see him without his customary buzz cut.

 

It's some minutes before Shepard pulls himself together enough to sit up. He swipes a wrist across his nose and gives Joker a sheepish look. “Sorry,” he mutters.

 

“ Don't mention it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard discovers that being "normal" isn't as easy as he'd hoped it would be.

Shepard refuses treatment for the claw marks on his arms, saying he needs the reminder of what he'd done. Chakwas  _ tsks _ at him, but doesn't argue. She does, however, insist they bump their regularly scheduled meeting up a day, meaning he'll have to come by that afternoon. He'd already informed his employers of his need for weekly therapy sessions to deal with his PTSD. If they are bothered by his admission of weakness, it doesn't show; they're just happy to have someone of his caliber working for them – or so they tell him.

 

He's reading through scripts on the mech he started working on yesterday, tapping lines of code into his omni-tool, when Bethany approaches him. He gives her a small smile then returns focus to the task at hand. “Wild night?” she asks with a mischievous grin, gesturing toward his arms.

 

“ Not in the way you're suggesting,” he states calmly, cursing under his breath when the code he's been working on fails. Scrubbing a hand through his hair and blowing out a long breath, he picks up his tool kit and pokes around inside the mech on the table. 

 

Each personal mobility assistance mech that McConnell-Inglehart builds is customized for the buyer; therefore, each one is unique. It's a challenge Shepard can readily get behind. Creating rather than destroying. It fills him with a sense of pride. Knowing he's helping people in need gives him a purpose, which is something he's desperately needed since he'd awoken from the coma.

 

“ Oh? Do tell!” Bethany insists, and he gives her a sidelong glance.

 

“ I promise that it's nothing exciting. Just... ran into a little trouble last night is all.” It's not entirely a lie, and even if it was, he's okay with that. A little white lie to spare someone's feelings or save himself some embarrassment never bothered him much. And this is personal. The last thing he needs is for his humiliating nightly breakdowns to leak out into the public. He's still ashamed of himself for crying on Joker's shoulder like that. The pilot had assured him, repeatedly, that it was no big deal, but it feels like a big deal. War heroes having nightmares and flashbacks is one thing. Curling into a ball in the arms of your former pilot and current roommate and crying like a baby is another.

 

“ I like trouble,” Bethany tells him, and he finally turns to face her, a questioning quirk to his eyebrow.

 

“ Is there something you're hinting at?”

 

“ It's okay, Commander. Plenty of people like it rough. If your arms look like that, I'd love to get a glimpse of your back!” She winks at him.

 

John chuckles and shakes his head, facing the mech on the table once more. After soldering a few loose connections into place, he retries the code and whispers, “yes,” in triumph when the mech turns its head to face him. “Bethany,” he finally responds, “I can assure you that the marks on my arms are not from a wild night of sex. I was in an... altercation with someone.” Again, not an outright lie. Hopefully the woman will let it go now so they can get back to work.

 

“ Someone tried to jump you?”

 

“ It's more accurate to say I jumped them, but... can we just drop it and get back to work, please?”

 

“ Sorry, Commander,” she murmurs.

 

John sighs. “Bethany, I don't want to start our working relationship this way. I'm... a private person, and... there are some things I just... don't enjoy talking about, alright?”

 

“ I can respect that, Commander. I didn't mean to pry.” They face each other, and John studies her. She's rather pretty with long brown hair that reminds him of Ash and soft gray eyes full of warmth and optimism. He wonders where she spent her time during the war that she could come out of it without seeming jaded, and he finds himself jealous of wherever that was.

 

“ Please, call me John. I'm no longer a commander.”

 

The woman laughs lightly. “You'll always be a commander to the people you saved. But alright, John. I think I'm going to enjoy working with you.”

 

“ Likewise,” he smiles, extending a hand to her. 

 

They continue with their work after that, and Shepard's mind begins to wander. Why was Joker able to call him out of his rage last night? Chakwas had told him he seemed to be in an unreachable state at the time, but all it had taken was a word from Joker and the man's hand on his arm to snap him out of it. And it had felt so easy, so... right, and the memory of it this morning leaves him with more than just embarrassment. 

 

Edies of confusion swirl through him. During the war, he’d faced these nightmares alone, now he’s incapable of conquering them by himself. Something about Joker seems to tame the demons within him. A sense of wonder over this apparent connection to his roommate crowds around the humiliation, and it becomes impossible to untangle the mess of thoughts. 

 

“Oh, before I forget,” he says, glancing at the clock. “I won't be back after lunch today. I have a standing doctor's appointment each week that I cannot miss.”

 

“ No problem. Just leave me a note saying where you are with the mech, and I can work on it this afternoon.”

 

“ Got it.”

 

**

 

The bruises on Chakwas' neck are already beginning to fade thanks to the medigel she'd applied last night, but her voice is still raspy from the damage she'd sustained. Shepard can't help feeling guilty.

 

“ Let's begin with the nightmare from last night,” she says, and there is no judgment in her eyes or her voice. He's relieved. This is hard enough – dealing with the frustration and guilt and shame – without having to think that she's angry with him. He'd apologized profusely the night before, but feels the need to do so again. Chakwas cuts him off, “No need for that, Shepard. I hold no grudges against you.”

 

“ Thank you,” he breathes, and then begins his tale.

 

_ He's running through the forest. Always the same forest, with its dead trees and whispered accusations. The faces of the dead swirl around him – Ashley, Jenkins, Mordin, Thane, Legion, Anderson. Their voices call to him: “I understand, Skipper. I have no regrets,” “Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong,” “I'm itching for some action,” “I must go to them, Shepard-Commander,” “Kalihira, Mistress of inscrutable depths,” “I'm proud of you, son.” _

 

_ The boy is there, too. Same as always, but as he runs, others join him. Chambers, Daniels, Donnelly, Chakwas herself. The Collectors are there, and Harbinger's voice can be heard above all the rest. “Assuming direct control,” “This hurts you.” _

 

“ The Collectors were taking the crew, and I was fighting to get them back.” He stares stoically out the window. Thunder rumbles ominously through the gray clouds in the distance. “I couldn't find them. They were always out of my reach.”

 

“ That's why you asked what I'd done with them.”

 

Shepard shrugs. “I guess.”

 

“ Did you have a particularly stressful day yesterday, Shepard?”

 

“ No. I started my new job, but everything went fine. The people were a little...”

 

“ Starstruck?” Chakwas provided when he didn't say more.

 

“ Yeah, but it didn't bother me. Not really. I know they'll get over it in time.” Reliving these memories is draining, and he feels a headache coming on. He talks about things he doesn't want to because Chakwas assures him that having his fears in the open will give them less power over him. All he wants is to stop reliving the war. The horrors he's seen, the things he’s been forced to do, no one should witness much less participate in. People died on his orders. People died while he was trying to gather the resources to win. People died whenever he hesitated or failed. It was more responsibility than one man should have been saddled with, and it has nearly broken his mind.

 

He stays at the doctor's office for hours, and by the time he leaves, he's exhausted. Joker is sitting on the couch sifting through the medical manual Shepard brought home the day before. “Hey, Shep-” Joker's voice dies where he sits when he catches a glimpse of his former commander, and he rises to his feet as quickly as his disease will let him. Shepard looks about to fall down. “Come on and sit,” the pilot urges, guiding Shepard toward the sofa.

 

John sits with a sigh and a grateful look toward his friend, and Joker can't help but smile at him. “MREs tonight, I'm afraid,” he says casually. “Even the Normandy crew don't rate special meal rations in this day and age.”

 

Shepard chuckles, albeit tiredly, and slumps to rest his head on the back of the couch.

 

“ Tough day at the office?” Joker asks.

 

“ Tough day at therapy,” he sighs, digging the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “This fucking sucks!”

 

“ We all did our stint of therapy with Chakwas,” Joker assures him. “It'll help. You'll see. Now, here, eat. You look like you could use it.”

 

“ I could use a shower and about twelve hours sleep,” Shepard complains, but accepts the meal from his friend's hand. “Thanks for this, though.”

 

“ I can send you my bank account info, and you know... tips are always appreciated.”

 

“ Here's a tip for you: never play cards with Vega – he cheats.”

 

“ We know this from personal experience I take it?”

 

Shepard nods sagely then takes a bite of his pasty chicken curry. Joker laughs at the face he pulls, but then makes the same one after taking his own bite. “I always forget how terrible the curry is until I take a bite,” Shepard says, rising to get them both a beer to wash it away with. They scarf their food down, just to get it over with, reminding them that they're both soldiers and the majority of their lives they've eaten this way. Somehow it lessens the feeling of victory, being forced to continue eating food like this. “We should start a garden,” Shepard muses as he takes Joker's empty container to the trash and quickly washes their spoons and wipes down the counter.

 

“ Are we going to start knitting sweaters and beanies next?”

 

Joker gets an eye roll for his efforts. “No, wiseass. A garden means food. Real food. As in more of your grandma's soups and less of curry that tastes like dirt and glue.”

 

“ A valid point,” the pilot concedes. “I'll see what I can do about getting some seeds when I go out tomorrow. Anything in particular you want?”

 

“ I really like tomatoes. Can you even grow those here, though?”

 

“ No idea. Looks like it's going to be trial and error for us.”

 

“ Ha! Kinda like how we won the war, huh?”

 

“ Pretty much. Why don't you go hit the shower, Shepard. You look dead on your feet.”

 

“ Think I'll skip it and head straight to bed. Thanks for dinner, Joker. Good night.”

  
“ See ya.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so fluffy I might be sick. :) Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! I really appreciate every single one!

There's a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen when John blinks his eyes open, thankful that it's Saturday and he can sleep in. The last week and a half of being back in the working world has been harder than he expected it to be. Briefly, he'd even considered asking if he could cut back to working only four days a week instead of five, hating that it felt weak to ask such a thing. Instead, he trudged through the week, passed out early last night and, evidently, slept late this morning. Checking the clock confirms his suspicions. Ten hundred.

 

The floor is cool against his bare feet, but it feels nice, giving him a little jolt to help wake him up. After relieving himself and splashing cold water in his face, Shepard follows his nose toward the smell of, “Bacon?”

 

Joker grins at him and shrugs. “Called in a few favors. What's the fucking point of being the savior of the galaxy if you can't have bacon and eggs on Saturday morning, right?”

 

“ I could kiss you,” John exclaims as he crunches on a crisp slice.

 

“ Gotta buy me dinner first,” Joker quips.

 

“ I've already bought you dinner twice in the last two weeks. When are you going to start putting out, Joker?” Shepard winks at the pilot when the man just shakes his head and laughs.

 

“ Get the plates down?”

 

“ Sure. Thanks for cooking, by the way.”

 

“ I think I actually like it,” Joker muses. “Never thought I'd say that.”

 

“ Well, that makes one of us. I prefer going out to dinner myself.”

 

“ Speaking of...”

 

“ Dates or cooking?” Shepard asks when Joker hesitates.

 

“ Dates. Have you met anyone at work?”

 

“ I don't date co-workers, remember?” Shepard sets the table, exclaiming excitedly when he finds a pitcher of orange juice in the fridge.

 

“ It's just a powdered mix,” Joker informs him. “Don't get too excited.”

 

“ Still... this feels like a feast.” He knows his grin probably looks silly, but he can't help it. “Hey, speaking of feasts, did you get any vegetable seeds?”

 

“ A few, yeah,” Joker says, taking his seat while Shepard dishes up the food. “Figured this afternoon was as good a time as any to try our hand at farming.”

 

“ _ Gardening _ , Joker. There's a difference.”

 

“ Still sounds a little gay to me.”

 

Shepard laughs, rolls his eyes. “I'm not gay. I'm bisexual. There is a difference.”

 

“ I know,” Joker says. “Me, too.” He almost laughs at Shepard's surprised expression. “It's not like I go broadcasting it,” he says instead. “Besides, EDI is the only person I've dated since I've known you, so I'm not surprised that you didn't know. I typically prefer women, though.” _ Except for now _ , he thinks, holding in a sigh.

 

Clearing his throat, John mutters an apology for his reaction. “Anyway, you won't think gardening is gay when we have fresh food to eat.”

 

**

 

It actually feels good to get his hands in the dirt. Other than lying face down in the stuff during training, PT, or combat, he's never had much opportunity to explore the sensation. “If you get down here with me, will you be able to get back up?” he asks over his shoulder.

 

“ You'll probably have to help me down and up,” Joker says.

 

“ I don't have a problem with that.”

 

John stands, letting Joker lean against him as he carefully lowers the man to the ground. They work together to dig the holes and fill them with a little fertilizer before dropping a seed into each one. After a couple hours, they're filthy, sweaty, and laughing happily, and they've managed to plant tomatoes, peppers, corn, squash, cucumbers, and lettuce, with plans to add some herbs if they can find the seeds. Maybe one day they'll be able to add onions, potatoes, and carrots.

 

John lies back into the soft dirt, still sifting it through his fingers. “Look at the clouds,” he says, pointing a dirty finger. There's soil caked around his nails, but he finds he doesn't mind it. “I guess I never noticed that they could take so many shapes. It's... kinda pretty.”

 

Joker is beside him, hands crossed behind his head as he stares toward the sky. “What, you never tried to find pictures in the clouds when you were a kid?”

 

“ No. I grew up on ships.”

 

“ Well, it's easy, just look at them and try to make out a shape or picture. Like that one,” Joker says pointing. “Looks like a dick.”

 

Shepard laughs, “No it doesn't!”

 

“ Sure it does, see the-”

 

“ Oh... yeah, it does look like a dick. Hm... but that one,” John indicates a different one, “looks like a turian.”

 

“ With his dick out.”

 

“ God, you're such a fucking perv!”

 

“ Come on! Do you not see it?” Joker gestures toward the offending cloud.

 

“ Dammit, you're right. Maybe if I'd played this game as a kid, I wouldn't see dicks everywhere.”

 

“ Maybe you're the one who's a fucking perv.”

 

Shepard gives him a mock glare. “You're the one who started pointing out all the cloud dicks in the sky! Maybe you've just got dick on the brain.”

 

“ It has been awhile,” Joker mutters, then waves his hand toward another cloud. “That one looks like a cat though.”

 

“ I think you've ruined this game for me,” Shepard states, sitting up with a groan. He doesn't stand though, just leans back on his hands, gazing across the horizon. Their prefab is on the edge of town, and despite the fact that there are new people moving into the area on a near daily basis, they still have an incredible view of the countryside around them. “I might go hiking tomorrow.”

 

“ It'll be good for you,” Joker says. “You can get out and clear your head a bit.”

 

“ Could you go?” Shepard looks over at his friend. For the last few days he's been having this strange – and honestly, dreaded – feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he's alone with Joker for too long. He doesn't like to dwell on it, easily guessing what the feeling means. Can it be he is developing a crush on Joker? Of all the asinine things for him to do. Still, he enjoys the man's company, and he feels lonelier without him around. Truth be told, he was looking forward to doing this with Joker today. Just the two of them, puttering around the house, doing nothing, talking about everything. It had been ages since he'd had that kind of relationship with anyone. 

 

Relationship? That’s perhaps taking things a proverbial step too far. Friendship. Yes, friendship is a much more comfortable word.

 

“ Doubtful,” Joker says ruefully. “I can't go very far most of the time.”

 

Despite the fact he’d been expecting that answer, Shepard is disappointed. “Well, I can stay here.”

 

“ Don't miss out on my account, Shepard. Go on your hike. It'll do you some good.”

 

“ If you're sure?”

 

“ I'm sure. Now help me up.”

 

“ Yes, sir,” Shepard says with a chuckle, hoisting himself out of the dirt and dusting off his rear.

 

**

 

Joker was right. Being out in the fresh air and sunshine does wonders for Shepard's outlook on life. The exercise is beneficial, and the views are breathtaking. It’s been so long since he's spent time outdoors in a manner that didn't involve a firearm of some sort. Hell, maybe he’s never done it. Seeing the world this way makes him want to spend more time out in it.

 

Over the last couple of weeks that he's been living with Joker, he's been racking his brain trying to remember what he enjoyed doing outside of work. Before the war, if anyone had asked, he would have said he loved being a soldier. That had all changed during the last few years of his life. Since encountering the beacon on Eden Prime, nothing had been the same. The burden of the knowledge he carried, the weight of responsibility had overwhelmed him even then. After the reaper invasion, it had simply come down to a matter of survival. Beating the odds, no matter the cost. He had to fight. Had to win. There just weren’t any other options.

 

Now he has won, and for what? To work as a civilian, barely knowing how to carry on a conversation with someone who has no military background? To drive his roommate and friend to the brink of insanity? To be plagued with nightmares that cause him to lash out at people he trusts?

 

There has to be something more to life. Something he's missed along the way. Service, duty, responsibility. Those things had driven him in the past. Now there are no such motivations in his life. Nor does he want there to be. He wants life to be... fun, but is hardly able to recognize the emotion.

 

_ Joker is fun. _

 

The thought hits him out of nowhere, and he shakes it away quickly. He can’t afford to let thoughts of that kind continue.

 

One thing he remembered doing as a kid was drawing. He'd always enjoyed it. As a teen, he'd fancied himself good at it. Without telling anyone, he'd gone in search of a sketchpad and some pencils earlier in the week. Sinking to the ground by a tree, he uses it as a backrest and pulls the pad, pencils, and a bottle of water from his knapsack, staring across the valley beneath him wondering where to start. Maybe it’s a stupid idea, but his fingers itch at the thought of walking away empty handed.

 

After a swig of water, he sets his pencil to the paper and just begins. The view in front of him is lush rolling hills, somehow mostly unscathed by reaper beams, the polar opposite of the area still known as no man's land. Shepard still hasn't been able to bring himself to visit the section of London where they'd made their final stand against the reapers – where so many brave men and women fought and died. He shudders briefly before pushing that thought away as well, and focusing on the task at hand.

 

To his surprise, the picture begins to take shape, and it's... not terrible. He's no da Vinci, but he likes what he ends up with, wonders if he could do it again in color. Pleased with himself, he starts to pack the sketchpad away, when a tiny bird, rich brown with golden speckles strewn across its back, lands in front of him, hopping from place to place, dipping its yellow beak into the soil to pull up a grub or a worm. Shepard grins and begins sketching it. The pattern on its back reminds him of a field of stars against the backdrop of space, and he can't quite contain the spark of excitement, the thrill of a new discovery. It’s the same emotion he’d felt whenever he’d landed on a new planet, uncharted and unexplored, like the rush of opening presents on his birthday or Christmas morning as a kid. 

 

It's close to nightfall by the time he makes it home. Joker sits in a chair on the porch of their prefab, feet propped on a crate like they've become accustomed to doing, a half-full beer bottle dangling from his fingers. “Hey, Shepard! I was just starting to worry about you.”

 

“ Didn't know you cared so much, Joker,” Shepard teases, setting his knapsack down and heading inside for a beer of his own and a replacement for his friend.

 

“ Well, how was it?” Joker asks after he's polished off his old beer and cracked open the new.

 

“ Amazing,” Shepard says. “Simply... amazing. I mean...” The thought dissolves as he digs in his knapsack for the sketchpad, hesitates for a moment, then passes it to Joker. The pilot gives him a curious glance, but accepts it, opening it to the first page. The landscape he'd drawn stares back off the page, and Joker sucks in a quiet breath.

 

“ Shepard... this is incredible. You drew this?”

 

“ Is that so hard to believe? One of my hidden talents, I suppose.” He swallows a generous portion of beer before leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “It was really great, Joker.” The sound of turning pages is all that breaks the silence, save the birds and insects chirping into the twilight. 

 

He'd managed to find five different species of bird to sketch, and he's anxious to do some research to find out what they are. It seems almost silly that he doesn't know, but really, how would he? A literal lifetime spent on starships means that he's never had much contact with nature or animals. His love of the fish in his tank and the furry rodent running in a cage in his room should have been proof enough of his interest in animals, but somehow he's never connected them as being something he could turn into a hobby – a passion. 

 

“ I'm honestly speechless,” Joker finally says, and John had almost forgotten that he'd been looking through the sketches. “Shepard, these are good. Like... archival quality good.”

 

“ Don't be ridiculous,” he scoffs.

 

“ I'm serious. I... had no idea you were this talented.”

 

“ Neither did I, to be honest. I just remembered that sketching was something I used to enjoy as a kid. Since you told me to think about things like that, well...”

 

“ You've been taking my advice? Shepard, you should know by now that I'm completely full of shit!”

 

Shepard barks a laugh at that. “While that is true most of the time, you've been known to have a good idea... or two.”

 

“ Hey, have you eaten?” he asks suddenly. John hasn't, and before he can answer, his stomach replies for him, growling loud enough for the pilot to hear. Joker simply laughs. “Tried out another of my grandma's soup recipes today. This one is a beef stew. Want some?”

 

“ Hell yes!”

 

Joker makes to stand, but Shepard stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “I'll get it,” he says and disappears inside the house. He ends up eating four bowls because all he'd taken were a couple ration bars today, and half of one of those went toward coaxing birds closer so that he could sketch them. Maybe he won't tell Joker that part. Still, he's already thinking about where he could go next weekend to find something different to draw. “Hey, there's a park not far from where I work – a little pond and garden. If I went there next week, could you go?”

 

“ Parks should be fine. Plenty of places for me to sit my crippled ass down to rest. Are you asking me on a date, Shepard?”

 

“ It's not a... date.” It occurs to him that he actually wouldn’t mind taking Joker on a date, but he ignores it. “I just thought you might want to get out and do something. If you don't want to-”

 

“ No, no... it's cool. I'll go.”

 

Shepard watches as the stars pop out one by one in the sky. “I like spending time with you, Joker,” he says quietly.

 

“ You're interests are kinda nerdy, but, yeah... I like spending time with you too, Shepard.”

 

“ My interests are nerdy?” Shepard laughs. “I'm not the one who dated a robot!” The words are out before he can stop them, and he immediately regrets it. “Shit, Joker... I'm... fuck, I'm sorry. That was-”

 

“ Forget it, Shepard. I... think I'll go on to bed.”

 

A muttered curse slips through Shepard's lips once Joker is gone, and he rocks his chair back, letting his head hit the side of the house a few times. Good mood ruined by his thoughtlessness, he stands and collects his and Joker's things. After cleaning the kitchen, he heads for the shower, stopping dead in his tracks at the muffled sounds of sobbing coming from Joker's room.

 

Knocking softly, he calls, “Joker? Joker, I'm sorry.” The lock on the door is green, so he palms it and steps into the dimly lit room. It's the first time he's ever set foot in here, but there’s enough light to make out a few details. Unsurprisingly, there's a model of the Normandy above his bed. A framed photo of him and EDI on the bedside table. Evidence of Joker's obsession with ships – models, books, even a poster or two. By the terminal on the desk lies a porn vid, and Shepard would laugh at that if it weren't for the fact that Jeff is curled into a ball in the center of the bed, sobbing his eyes out.

 

Taking a deep breath, Shepard crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on Joker's shoulder. “I know saying I'm sorry isn't enough, but I am sorry. It was a thoughtless, careless thing to say, and if there was any way I could take it back, I would.”

 

“ I know,” Joker sniffles. “I'm not... It was a damn good joke, Shepard. I just... sometimes I just miss her so much.”

 

John's shoulders slump. There's nothing he can do to help with that. Grief is a process that takes time. One he knows all too well. Even eighteen years after his father's death, he still has moments when he feels like he's drowning in his sorrow, wishing to be able to talk to the man, to get his advice on this or that. His mom is wonderful, loves him with all her heart – he knows – but he'd always been closer to his dad.

 

He gently kneads the shoulder under his palm before pulling his hand away. “I'm here if you need someone to talk to, Joker, you know that.”

 

“ Maybe you should get a therapist’s license.” There’s another sniffle, and Shepard chuckles.

 

“ Nah... I enjoy talking with people, but... I've been told I'm... awkward.”

 

“ You? Awkward? Never! Mr. 'I should go!'”

 

“ I have the strangest feeling you're making fun of me.”

 

“ Would I do that?”

 

Shepard chuckles again. “I really am sorry.”

 

“ Stop apologizing. I'm not mad. Not sure I could ever be mad at you.”

 

There's a pause that feels ripe with something that Shepard can't lay a finger on. He's not sure exactly how to take that statement, but he clears his throat and mutters roughly, “It's alright to be mad at someone who's acting like an ass. Even if that ass is considered a war hero.”

 

“ I'll keep that in mind.”

 

“ Good night, Joker.”

  
“ Night.”


	8. Chapter 8

Joker comes home from work one day to find Shepard's sketch pad lying on the kitchen table. There’s a twinge of guilt, but not enough to keep him from opening it for a peek. There are several new drawings, these in color, and he realizes they're the same birds he'd sketched in pencil the other day. When he hears the shower switch off, he closes the book and heads to the fridge to see to dinner. Looks like it will be MREs again tonight. Shepard had loved the beef stew so much that they'd polished it off pretty quickly. 

 

“Baby, you keep feeding me like this, and you’re never going to get rid of me,” he’d said with a wink that made Joker blush, because really, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to keep Shepard around for awhile. If his cooking could do that… He stops and curses himself for his domestic line of thinking.

 

Shepard is his friend, former commander, and current roommate. Nothing more.

 

Hearing the sound of bare feet, he turns and Shepard is standing there in nothing but a towel looking surprised. “Joker? I, uh... I guess I didn't realize how late it had gotten. Sorry.”

 

Water is running down his chest in rivulets like he hadn't toweled off at all, simply wrapped the cloth around his waist and traipsed to the kitchen. He seems to realize this as well, and his cheeks turn pink. A fact that doesn't go unnoticed by Joker, but he hopes his own reaction to seeing Shepard this way remains secret. “You're getting water everywhere,” Joker says as Shepard stares at him slack jawed, and honestly, he doesn't want the moment to pass, knowing it will anyway.

 

“ Shit,” Shepard declares, as if he's just realized that he was still wet all over again. “Sorry. I'll clean it up in a sec. I just came to get my sketch pad.”

 

“ You'll ruin the drawings if you get it wet.”

 

“ Yeah, but... there's something I want to draw, so...” He snatches the book and pencil case off the table and hurries off down the hallway.

 

Joker is curious, but doesn't follow. Instead, he rummages through the cabinet to find the least offensive MREs available. Chili is out of the question. He contemplates tossing it out, and if it weren't for the food shortage, he would. The last thing he needs is both of them with beans to digest, and Alliance chili is particularly offensive to the nose. Maybe he should save those for when only one of them is home. It's looking like chicken curry again when Shepard calls to him from the bedroom.

 

The man is sitting on a stool by his window, still wearing nothing but a towel, sketching the flock of birds outside his window furiously. “Something you needed, Shepard?”

 

“ Yeah, sorry.... I didn't want to stop for fear they'd be gone by the time I got back, but... let's go out for dinner tonight. What do you say? My treat.”

 

“ Sounds good to me. We were down to chili or chicken curry again.”

 

Shepard shudders, but doesn't stop drawing. “Yeah. Definitely going out to eat.”

 

Joker laughs. “Just let me grab a shower. But I can pay for my own.”

 

“ Suit yourself, Joker. I don't mind. I'll try to be done and dressed by the time you get out.”

 

An hour later they're seated at their favorite restaurant, tucking into giant, greasy bacon cheeseburgers. “Holy shit that's good,” Joker moans. 

 

“ A thousand times better than fucking chicken curry,” Shepard agrees. “I swear, I can't even smell curry spice anymore without becoming nauseated.”

 

The war has caused rationing and food shortages around the globe, and what little fresh food there is goes to the highest bidder in most cases. It’s barely a step above shameless profiteering, and Shepard knows it, but for the first time in his life, he chooses to enjoy the luxury afforded by his wealth and status. They’re doing their part - still subsisting mainly on rations and MREs months after the war’s end, growing fresh food in their tiny yard. And as Joker is eager to remind him every damn time it comes up, they’ve already done their parts and then some by leading the galaxy to victory over the reapers. Surely that is worth the occasional cheeseburger. 

 

“ How was therapy today? You were home awfully early.”

 

“ Good, actually. I didn't have a nightmare this week. At least not one bad enough to wake you. I take that as a small victory.” He continues with a grin after Joker's chuckle. “Told Chakwas about the hiking and the sketching. She said a creative outlet would help with the-” He stops abruptly, shoving a few fries in his mouth to occupy it.

 

“ With the what, Shepard?”

 

John stares at his plate, picking at the seeds on top of his bun, then sighs, “I had a panic attack at work this morning. I've... been having... flashbacks, I guess. Chakwas said it was normal, but... they scare the fuck out of me, to be honest.” He stuffs a few more fries in his mouth, refusing to meet Joker's eyes.

 

“ Anyway, Bethany, my coworker, dropped a tray of tools, and I... I dove behind one of the work tables. It was just instinct, you know. Loud noises – gunfire, explosions. Dive for cover. It's what you do, right?” Shepard sighs again, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and Joker regrets making him talk about it. If this all happened today, it’s a wonder that he'd been in such a good mood when he came home.

 

“ But this was more than just being startled by a loud noise,” he says after a time, eyes still cast on his plate. “It was like... I was there. Everything faded away, and we were here in London. The smoke, the screams, the... stench of burning bodies; it was all right there, plain as day. I don't remember what happened – what I actually did. Bethany said I was barking orders, telling her to get down. She called the paramedics, and they took me to the hospital. Chakwas was able to convince them to release me today, but... I now have to take anxiety medication.” He fishes in his pocket for a vial of pills, shaking them at Joker.

 

“ Are they going to let you go back to work?”

 

“ Yeah. Chakwas cleared all that, too. It's... hell, it's pretty embarrassing, though. No telling what Bethany thinks of me now.”

 

“ She probably thinks that you're a war hero suffering from PTSD... because that's what you are. Does it matter what she thinks?”

 

Shepard's eyes snap to his. Something in Joker's tone is uneasy, and John doesn't miss it. He knows his brow is furrowed, but he doesn't stop it. “She's my coworker. I want us to be able to work together. I don't want her to be frightened of me. Other than that, no. Others' opinions have never mattered all that much to me.” He finally takes another bite of his burger, hunger winning out over the difficult emotions. A thoughtful light comes into his eyes as he chews, and he looks at Joker again. “Wait! Is this another of your efforts to get me laid? Because, I gotta say... you didn't do so hot picking that last one.”

 

He doesn't see the flush on Joker's cheeks because he's chuckling and focusing on the fries on his plate. “I was just curious,” Joker says, and his voice sounds sullen even to his own ears.

 

“ I uh...” Shepard clears his throat. “Not that I don't appreciate the effort, I guess.”

 

“ I'm done meddling in your love life... or sex life, whichever,” Joker promises.

 

“ And I appreciate that even more,” Shepard says with another laugh.

 

“ So, Chakwas said something about the drawing?”

 

“ Oh, right... Yeah, she said it would be good for me to have other things to focus my thoughts on. Something positive, instead of all the... chaos of the war.”

 

“ I saw the new drawings. They're really good, Shepard.”

 

“ Thanks.” His smile is shy, and it trips Joker's heart in his chest. He really needs to get a handle on this shit. Guys like Shepard don't go for guys like him. It just doesn't happen. They finish their meal, speaking of inconsequential things for the duration. The trip home is uneventful as well. “Thanks for going to dinner with me.”

 

“ Well it was that or stay home and eat rehydrated chili.”

 

Shepard shudders dramatically, and they both laugh. “Guess we need to pick up some more supplies. I'll see what I can do on my way home from work tomorrow. Maybe if I make a personal appearance at the supply depot I can get them to give us something decent.”

 

“ Working the system. Abusing your status. I like it.”

 

They laugh together again, and it feels so natural, two old friends, comfortable with each other after years of fighting and working side by side. Their eyes meet, and they both hesitate, both seeming like there's something they want to say. Joker knows what  _ he _ wants to say, but he doesn't want to be the one to make an ass of himself. Instead, he lingers, watching Shepard's sapphire eyes for a hint of what's going on in that head of his. The angles of his jaws and cheeks are that classic kind of beauty that old silver screen actors possessed, and despite the trauma he'd endured today, the worry and frown lines seem lessened somehow, like the sketching is actually doing some good. Or maybe that was the burger. He doesn't let himself hope it was the company.

 

“ I...” Shepard begins, but then blinks and looks away, breaking the moment. “Good night, Joker.”

 

“ Night, Shepard.”

 

**

 

He's being disloyal to EDI's memory. That's the feeling in the pit of his gut anyway. He's always cared for Commander Shepard – hero, savior, the man with the plan. The survivor's guilt he'd felt after Alchera had eaten away at him. Shepard had died to save him. Literally fucking died. How could he have not felt guilt over that?

 

This time around isn't the same. What he feels over EDI's loss is just plain old grief, longing, not that gnawing in the pit of his gut that makes everything taste bad except for whiskey, that makes objects lose their color. 

 

It's been just over eight months since the end of the reaper war. Since EDI had died – deactivated... whatever. Died. In his mind, it had been a death. The death of a loved one no less. Nothing could bring her back. Not the way she had been. Tali had worked on it night and day for nearly six months. Kaidan and Garrus had helped. Hell, half the scientists in the quarian fleet had worked to bring the geth back online. It simply couldn’t be done. It is never going to happen. EDI is never going to come back into his life the way John Shepard had.

 

He remembers late nights talking with EDI when he should have been sleeping. She'd really been the perfect woman. Even her jokes were getting better.

 

Joker puts the bottle of whiskey to his lips, drinking deeply.

 

He misses her. Misses those nights. The conversations they'd had. But he's having new conversations now. Life is going on. Feelings are developing that he's not entirely sure how to handle. He and Shepard have become like an old married couple. Jeff does the cooking while Shepard does the cleaning. They bicker about the temperature of the house. Shepard's always cold; Joker hot. They've gotten the bit down by heart now. Right down to not having sex as inevitably happens when couples have been together for far too long.

 

Not that they're that kind of couple, but sometimes Joker wishes they were. And tonight that thought drives him to the front porch, bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in his fist.

 

Shepard's lips that just look so damn kissable. The way his grin is always –  _ always _ – just a little lopsided, making him look younger and adorable and irresistible all at once. That furrowed-brow look of concentration on his face when he's studying his medical or technical manuals. The gleeful innocence in brilliant blue eyes when he finds something new to sketch.

 

For months Joker has been trying to ignore thoughts like that. Thoughts that make him feel equal parts foolish and dishonest. He hadn't been wrong. Shepard can quite literally have anyone in the galaxy he wants. There is no reason to think that he'd want someone like Joker. And yet, it has been two months since that night at the bar when Shepard had gone home with some stranger – at Joker's own idiotic insistence – and there hasn't been anyone else since.

 

Joker drinks again, closes his eyes, imagines EDI sitting beside him in her co-pilot's chair. She'd been so beautiful. Regardless of the fact that she'd been an AI, she'd been full of life. She'd had interests and ideas and passion – thanks to Shepard encouraging her to pursue those goals. And Joker misses her. Misses her corny jokes and her mothering. Misses holding her close in the dead of night. Misses her touch, so gentle and careful, and so incredibly perfect.

 

His eyes snap open when he realizes that it's no longer EDI he's envisioning. It's Shepard.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [shotce](https://shotce.tumblr.com/) for her beautiful drawing of Joker! You're the best, sweetie!

_Artwork by the amazing[shotce! ](https://shotce.tumblr.com/)_

 

Typically Saturdays are spent with Joker. They putter around the house, working in the garden, or they head to the park for a walk and to allow Shepard time to sketch. This morning Shepard is alone in the house, and Joker hasn't even left him a note saying where he's gone.

Rather than torment himself with the western omelet MRE, John grabs a ration bar and a cup of instant coffee – there's no need to brew a whole pot just for him – and makes for the front porch. There's an empty whiskey bottle beside Joker's usual seat, and he frowns at it, picking it up and holding it as if the act will somehow bring the man himself home again.

It's lonely without Joker here. The friendship they've developed over the last two months rivals any he's had in his life. Sure, he's had friends over the years, plenty of them. And of course there's not a single member of the Normandy's crew that he doesn't consider himself close to, but it's not the same. It's nothing like his relationship with Joker. They share an easy camaraderie, a simple understanding of what makes the other tick.

John knows exactly how to coax a smile out of the snarky and sometimes jaded pilot, and Joker can reciprocate like the snap of a finger. Shepard grins just thinking about it now.

Sighing, his eyes scan the horizon as if doing so will make the man appear out of thin air. Joker is a grown ass man. He doesn't need a babysitter, but Shepard can't help wondering why he'd just leave without saying something. Or wondering where he's gone.

Having consumed his meager breakfast, Shepard sets his mug on the crate that serves as an end table between his and Joker's chairs and heads to their garden. It's coming along brilliantly, and they've already been able to harvest a few vegetables for salad. It's extraordinary what a little fresh food can do for a person's morale, and he wishes he had even a modicum of talent in the kitchen. He'd surprise Joker with something homemade if he did.

Eyeing the empty whiskey bottle on the table again, he frowns, hoping whatever's eating Joker isn't serious. Hell, he's been at that point plenty of times himself. Sometimes a man just needs to lose himself in a bottle of whiskey and move on with his life. Knowing it doesn't stop the pinching worry in his chest however.

With a curse and a shake of his head, he turns his attention to the task of picking ripe vegetables. When he has a basket full of fresh tomatoes, peppers, squash, and lettuce, he carries them inside to wash them, setting them all on towels to dry, then heads back out. Joker had finally found them some herb seeds a few weeks ago, and they'd started them in pots in the house. The plan for today had been to transplant them to the garden now that they are bigger and hardier. Shepard sets about the chore alone, a pang of loneliness in his heart.

Once the gardening is finished, he heads back inside to clean the house. This week at work had been particularly stressful, and as much as he tried to stay on top of the mess, he'd simply been too busy to worry with it. As he cleans, the monotony of the job allowing him too much time to think, his mind drifts carelessly toward his roommate.

He's always taken great care not to develop romantic attachments to his subordinates. His job had been a serious one – one that required his full attention and devotion, and he couldn't have afforded to let himself fall for those under his command. More than that, it was unprofessional. Being a soldier – a Spectre – had been important to him. People looked up to him, respected him. He could have taken advantage of that millions of times over the years, but he hadn't because that wasn't who he was.

Given all that, it still strikes him as a little crazy that he's never paid attention to how handsome Joker is. Brittle bone disease aside, it is evident the man spends time in the gym, honing his body into peak performance just like any good soldier would, and there is something so soulful in those bright green eyes of his, verdant and alive. They remind him of something he'd seen in a movie once as a kid: The Emerald City. Shining and glittering and so full of promise.

Shepard blinks, stares down at his soapy hands from where he'd been washing last night's dishes.  _ What the hell? _

Grumbling, he dries his hands and finds some music on his omni-tool. There's a radio station – the only one in London – that plays such a bizarre mix of contrasting genres that it never fails to be interesting. It's funny how life has reverted in so many ways. Things just can't be as they once were. Not right now, at least. The natural tendency is to fall back on something simpler – like movie theaters and radio stations with a mix of classical and modern music.

“ _ How lucky can one guy be?” _ the radio sings, and Shepard hums along with the trumpet blasts in the background. This music was the most popular of the day once upon a time, and he chuckles at the thought of today's music – with its thumping club beats and techno-synth dance rhythms – being considered “classic” in a hundred years time.  _ “I kissed her and she kissed me.” _

The house is ship-shape with all the laundry done and folded, and Shepard realizes he's starving because he’d only had a measly ration bar for breakfast hours ago. There's been no word from Joker, and John puts a lid on the concern worrying the edges of his mind. It's after lunch, but by no means late in the day. And for Christ's sake, Joker's entitled to have a day to himself every now and again.

Still, without his roommate, the house is unbearably lonely, so Shepard leaves – sketchbook, water, and ration bars tucked away in his knapsack. He scribbles a quick note for Joker and heads to the park – their park. They've spent many weekend days here. Sometimes they walk until the pain in Joker's legs becomes too much for the man to bear, then they sit on a bench and people watch. Joker always has a funny story made up about every passerby. Shepard is in stitches every single time, and he's not nearly as good at coming up with stories as Joker is. Sometimes he manages to surprise a laugh out of the pilot though.

Other times, they sit under a tree by the pond so Shepard can sketch the flowers and wildlife, and Joker regales him with tales – some true, some an absolute load of horseshit – about everything from flight school to his grandma's cookies to sexual conquests that seem more of the horseshit variety. John always listens with an amused smile even though his focus is on the scenery in front of him.

Sometimes when the pilot goes quiet for too long, Shepard will look over and catch him staring. That never fails to send his heart rate soaring. Other times, Joker is gazing across the sparkling water of the pond, emerald eyes lost to memory. Shepard wants to reach for him then, to take his hand and pull him back from the brink of the abyss that old soldiers naturally gravitate toward. Hell, Joker has done it enough times for him. Perhaps not literally taking his hand, but Joker is always there with a quick wit and sarcastic smile that does the trick and helps Shepard pull his head out of his ass.

He munches thoughtfully on his ration bar, leaning back against the trunk of an old apple tree that somehow managed to survive and thrive in the wake of the reapers. The little signs of life he sees everywhere warm him through and through. During the war, and even in his darkest moments of reliving the horrors since, playing them like a vid on a feedback loop in his mind, there were so many times when he wondered if what they had left would be worth the fight when it was all over. Perhaps it would be better to let the reapers win. So many could have gone on to be with their loved ones, long perished before them. They could have been spared so much pain – the trauma, the grief, the utter sense of loss, both as individuals and as a civilization.

But here, now, he knows that fighting and surviving was the better option. The best option. Because people aren't just surviving – they're  _ living _ . He sees life everywhere he looks, and it's gorgeous. It's both simple and profound, and it makes him feel as though all the decisions he'd made months ago when he was worn and tired and struggling so hard to remain optimistic were the right calls after all.

A pair of ducks swim by, followed by a handful of ducklings, newly hatched and learning to swim gracefully like their mothers. Shepard quickly sketches them, making note to fill in more detail later. A father and son play catch on the grassy knoll by the pond while a mother plays pat-a-cake with her baby daughter. The apple tree above him is laden with ripening fruit, and butterflies flit around the flowers in front of him. Shepard draws it all, even adding himself leaned against the tree trunk as an afterthought.

He flips back through the sketchbook. This one's almost full. It's his second one since he'd taken up the hobby a couple months ago. Every sketch is indicative of the life that's blossoming and blooming all around him. He stops, inhaling quickly, as he comes to a drawing he'd forgotten about. Joker is sitting on the porch, leaned against the wall, chair balancing precariously on two legs. His hat is tipped down over his eyes, hands crossed on his chest, and Shepard knows he's napping, remembers that day clearly now. He can't help letting his finger trace the outline of the man's jaw, then hands.

“ Hey there John!”

He closes the book quickly and looks up to see his co-worker Bethany coming toward him. It's evident from her attire and her breathlessness that she's been jogging. He simply hadn't seen her until now. “Hey, Bethany,” he says, making to stand.

She waves him away and joins him on the grass, drinking deeply from her water bottle. “Do you live nearby?”

“ Not too far. You?”

“ I live in the apartments over there,” she points to a row of buildings. “They have us bunched up four to a flat, perfect strangers six, eight months ago.”

“ Wow. Sorry. I didn't realize things were that bad, housing wise.”

“ You don't have a roommate?”

“ Oh, yeah. Joker. He's Normandy's pilot. Known him for years. But, yeah... it's just the two of us in a prefab at the edge of town.”

“ Ah... where the dignitaries live,” she says with a grin.

“ Dignitaries?” He really hasn't noticed. Most of the Normandy's crew have quarters within easy walking distance. Other than that, he doesn't recognize most of their neighbors. For whatever reason, they mostly leave him alone – except for the crew of course. Thinking about it, he realizes they're probably too starstruck or frightened of him to come introduce themselves. And now it's going to be awkward. He's lived in the same place for two months. He should've made more of an effort to get to know the people living around him. He sighs. “I hadn't noticed.”

“ Huh. You don't strike me as unobservant.”

Shepard laughs. “Typically I'm not. Feels like I haven't been myself too much lately,” he muses quietly. But he's still learning what his  _ self _ is, so he doesn't berate himself too much. Still, he makes a mental note to extend the hand of friendship to their neighbors.

“ How're you holding up?” Bethany surprises him by asking.

“ Please don't tell me you're a shrink in disguise,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “They didn't plant you to keep tabs on me did they?”

“ Paranoid much?” she asks with a mirthy laugh. “No. Not a shrink. Just a concerned... friend, maybe?”

Shepard smiles at her. “Yeah, okay. Um... I'm doing better,” he admits cautiously. “Still seeing my doctor for weekly therapy appointments. I haven't had another panic attack since I started taking those meds.” He leaves off the part about the nightmares. They still come more frequently than he'd like, but he hasn't hurt anyone since he'd tried to strangle Dr. Chakwas months ago. He cringes at the memory of the hand-shaped bruises on her neck and again at the thought of Joker's broken arm.

“ What's that book?” She points to the sketchbook on his lap.

“ Oh... just... a hobby of mine.”

“ May I see?”

John hesitates, swallows, then gives a shallow nod, passing the book to her. He keeps his eyes focused on the things going on around him, trying to ignore her little gasps of excitement. His hands are shaking, and he almost feels a panic attack coming on, and wouldn't that just be fucking great right now?

“ John, these are incredible! Truly!”

“ Thank you.” He breathes out slowly, sending the flurry of nerves out with it and settles back against the tree, taking a sip of his water.

“ Who's this?”

Shepard glances over. “Uh... my roommate. Joker.”

“ His name's Joker?”

“ His name's Jeff. Joker is his nickname,” Shepard laughs, wishing the man himself were here with him now. He'd probably like Bethany. She is funny and smart, definitely pretty. A spike of jealousy curls his lip into a frown, and he shakes his head to clear it, returning his attention to the bustle of life around him.

Bethany clears her throat and surprises the hell out of Shepard with her next question. “Are you... are you seeing anyone?”

His eyes go wide as he turns his head slowly to meet her gaze. “Uh... no. Not in a long time, as a matter of fact.”

Her smile is one of relief. “Well... would you like to go out sometime? Like... on a date.”

He's stunned into silence for too long, the pause in conversation suddenly ripe with tension. The woman is rather pretty. Shepard has thought so for awhile, but he's never been one to mix business with pleasure – the asari consort aside. Really, what is one little slip in fifteen years as a soldier? “Bethany, I'm flattered,” he finds his voice at last. “Honestly I am, but I don't date co-workers. I'm sorry. It's one of my hard and fast rules.”

He grimaces as he watches her face fall, but she nods in understanding. “I get that,” she mutters. “Just had to take the chance, you know?”

Shepard tries to smile at her reassuringly as he searches for something to say that won't fill her with false hope for an impossible future change of heart. “I appreciate the thought anyway.”

**

Joker is sitting in his usual chair on the porch when Shepard returns, and the smile he flashes tumbles over Shepard's heart, sending it into a hammering fury. He can't help but return the gesture. “Where the hell have you been?” he asks in mock indignation. Honestly, there's more truth to his agitation than he's willing to admit. He's not only missed Joker today, he's actually been worried about the man. It isn't like him to just disappear.

He takes note of the bottle of aspirin on the table and the glass of water clutched in the pilot's hands and feels regret over his sharp tone. “Just... out,” is all Jeff admits, and despite his previous smile, there's something sullen about his demeanor.

“ You okay?” Shepard can't keep the concern from his voice, and honestly, he doesn't even want to try. Kneeling so that Jeff will meet his eyes, he catches the man's attention, offering him an encouraging smile, though his brow is drawn with sympathy and worry.

“ Rough night,” Joker announces, then sighs and finishes off his glass of water.

“ Want to talk about it?”

“ Not really. You can't fix everything, Shepard,” the man snaps, and it feels like a blow to the jaw.

John nods and stands, giving the pilot a gentle pat on the shoulder before heading inside. He'd stopped at the market to purchase some meat – paid a precious penny for some vat grown steaks, thinking it would be a nice treat. Instead of mentioning it to Joker, he sticks them into the freezer to save for another time, and heads into his room.

All day, there's been a constant craving in his chest, burning into his throat, to spend time with Joker. He's not sure what's going on, but it's painfully evident that the pilot just wants to be left alone. Shepard's not willing to admit to how much that hurts at the moment. His little crush is getting out of hand. So much so that he actually considers reneging on his “hard and fast rule” and calling Bethany. Instead, he changes into suitable bar attire.

“ I'm going out,” he says in passing to Joker. “Don't wait up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides* please don't hate me!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys... Just remember that... :)

He doesn't remember the last time he'd gotten this drunk. It feels good, almost enough to dull the ache in his heart, so he keeps drinking, drowning what, he isn't exactly sure. The sting of Joker's rejection cuts sharp and deep, and he just wants to forget for awhile. So he does. He dances like it's the end of the world, arms flailing, and even that reminds him of Joker now.

 

When he ends up in another stranger's bed – a man with green eyes and a reddish goatee – he tells himself it’s just about finding release. Not a replacement. He's nothing like gentle with the man – lust and frustration awakening something feral inside him – and he ignores the name that trips off his tongue as he spills inside his lover. Shame, hot as acid, fills him just as swiftly as he'd filled the man beneath him, and Shepard fights the urge to cry and scream. Instead, he falls onto the man's bed, lets him curl himself around him, listens with disgust as the man whispers praises into his ear, and finally allows himself to fall asleep.

 

His mother has her hand poised to knock on his front door when he manages to trudge up the walkway the next morning. His head is killing him. He's already thrown up once this morning, from alcohol or regret – he isn't quite sure. He mumbles a greeting to her and lets her into the house. Joker is on the couch in a pair of sweats flipping through the pitiful offering of channels on the local vid station. “Shepard,” the man greets.

 

“ Joker.”

 

Hannah follows him toward the kitchen where he pours them both a cup of coffee and rummages for the aspirin. Even the quaking movement of thresher maws didn't rattle his head like this hangover. 

 

“Must have been some night,” Hannah says, amused. 

 

Shepard just grunts. He can barely think let alone speak, and he's not sure what he should say in this case, regardless. Surely his mother would assume he is not a virgin at almost thirty five years of age. Still, he's never had to take the walk of shame in her presence before. It's more than a little unsettling. Hannah clears her throat – loudly – shameless in her smirking laughter when he winces. 

 

“Maybe I'll come back later. After you've had a nap.”

 

Shepard nods, unable to say anything, wincing again when she drops her coffee cup into the sink. “Fuck,” he mutters, gripping his head when she laughs at him. She pecks him on the cheek and leaves, and Shepard stumbles his way toward the shower, wishing it were as easy to wash away remorse as it is sweat and sex. He topples into bed without bothering to dress or cover himself and is asleep within minutes.

 

**

 

“ Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Joker quips when Shepard pads out to the kitchen again, hours later.

 

Shepard feels the twinge of guilt again, and it’s almost enough to make his stomach revolt once more. “Morning,” he mumbles, heading toward the sink to fill a glass with water. The sun blaring in the window above the sink is a painful mockery of his mood, and he realizes that it is at least mid-afternoon. He scowls and drains his glass, refilling it and downing it again before setting it by the sink and leaning on his hands to stare out at the landscape.

 

He knows his mood is complete shit because he doesn't even feel the urge to sketch what he sees. Drawing has become his outlet lately, and it leaves him a damn sight more fulfilled than getting drunk and having meaningless, unsatisfying sex with strangers. Balling his hands into fists, he thinks how nice it would be to have a punching bag. It's been months since he's gone toe to toe with someone, and he feels the itch for it simmering under the surface of his skin. Maybe he can meet up with Vega later for some sparring. 

 

“ Jesus, that must have been some shitty lay last night,” Joker observes from somewhere behind him, and Shepard doesn't even have the energy to deny it. The sex hadn't been bad per se – better than that first loser Joker had encouraged him to go home with, but that wasn't saying much. The problem lies with the fact that he’d slept with the wrong man, and Shepard sees that now, clear and stark in the sun's mocking light.

 

The shame creeps up his neck and cheeks again, and he wants to turn to Joker, to apologize and ask forgiveness, even though he's sure the man will laugh at him. The urge to confess what he's thinking and feeling is so powerful he can't even begin to ignore it. Steeling himself, he turns and opens his mouth to speak.

 

A knock at the door silences him quickly, however, and he watches – eyes tracking Jeff's movements with a new kind of interest – as Joker goes to answer it. “Rear Admiral,” the pilot says with deference that he'd never shown to Shepard, and John can't contain the quirk of a smile that tips his lips up for one small second while Joker salutes his mother.

 

“ Feeling better?” she asks after saluting Joker and stepping through the door. She gives the pilot an affectionate pat on the back, and Shepard grins at that, too. Joker is easy to like, and it warms him to know that she's already taken a liking to him.

 

“ Much,” he says in answer to her question. “I'm starving, though. What do you say to a very late breakfast?”

 

Hannah laughs and accepts, but Joker declines, souring Shepard's mood again instantly. At least he's able to wait until he's in his room to let out his sigh of frustration. He might be able to understand Joker's annoyance with him if he could recall having done anything to set it off. As it is, this near silent treatment and ‘avoid at all costs’ attitude is wearing thin. Maybe it is childish or selfish of him, but he misses the way things were just a short couple of days ago. He doesn't know what brought about Joker's sudden shift in demeanor, but he doesn't like it. Not a bit.

 

But then the guilt slams into him again, full force, buckling his knees and threatening to send him sprawling on the floor. He leans against the door to his room for support, tears burning in his eyes, throat thick with regret and sorrow. Digging the balls of his hands into his eyes to force the tears away, he curses his own stupidity. Why couldn’t he have just talked to Joker? Or given him the space he needed? Now his own brash actions have, in all likelihood, ruined any chance for them to be more than just friends. 

 

“Fuck,” he grumbles as the tears he’s tried so desperately to stop trickle down his cheeks anyway. He scrubs them away angrily, pushing himself off the door and crossing the room to his closet. Placing last night's clothes in the hamper in the corner, he tugs on a fresh pair of jeans and a clean white t-shirt. He takes the time to brush his teeth again because his mouth still tastes like the things he'd been doing last night – cheap booze and dick and ass. He almost vomits again, then shudders as he spits into the sink.

 

Hannah is waiting at the door for him, and Joker is steadfastly ignoring them both as he channel surfs, likely waiting for them to get lost so he can put it back on porn or something. Shepard feels a flash of anger, then the persistent shame again. Not like he has any room to scold Joker for watching porn. Hell, he has no room to care what Joker does.

 

He wonders briefly if this is it. Is this the moment Commander Shepard finally loses his ever-loving mind? He mumbles a goodbye to Joker and leaves, not waiting to hear whether the man responds or not.

 

**

 

Joker heaves a sigh of frustration as soon as the door closes. It's not like he should expect Shepard to remain celibate just because he's too chickenshit to admit his own damn feelings. The man has no knowledge of his hopeless and inappropriate crush. Why should he sit around waiting for a confession he has no idea is even in the making?

 

Still, imagining Shepard with someone else feels different than the last time. Last time, there weren't these confused feelings involved. Last time his chest didn't ache like this. And worse is the knowledge that it’s his own damn fault it happened in the first place.

 

There had been no mistaking the hurt in Shepard's eyes when Joker had rebuffed his attempts to talk yesterday. He still just hadn't been in the mood, and anyway, how could he tell Shepard that he was struggling with his feelings for the man while still grieving for EDI? The instant Shepard had strolled out the door in his ‘looking to get laid’ clothes and told him not to wait up, Joker had regretted his unwillingness to speak, and had spent the whole night trying not to think about what Shepard was up to.

 

The pain had been there again when he'd refused Shepard's dinner offer moments ago, but he can't face dinner with Shepard's mom at the moment. Doesn't want to put the effort required into hiding his pain and sorrow from blue eyes that see everything no matter how seemingly insignificant.

 

Anger - at  Shepard for fucking someone else, at himself for being too much of a coward to tell Shepard how he feels - begins to rise in his chest, and he rubs away the tears that trickle down his cheeks. He isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.  

 

**

  
  


Joker's in his usual spot, slowly sipping a beer, when Shepard wanders up the walkway, a takeout box in his hand. Their eyes meet when the former commander stops by the door, offering the box to him. “Felt bad thinking of you having to eat an MRE, so I got you a burger. Extra horseradish.” His grin is small but genuine when Joker accepts it with a grateful nod, watching as Shepard disappears into the house.

 

He's back in a few minutes, having changed into sweats, and clutching a glass of water rather than his customary beer. Joker imagines he still has a headache, and if he'd eaten those runny eggs that he favors at dinner, then his stomach is probably not very happy with him at the moment. Shepard groans as he relaxes into his chair, and Joker mutters his thanks for dinner around a mouthful of fries. He's just quick enough to catch Shepard watching him with a happy smile before the former commander turns to gaze out at the rapidly sinking sun. “Nice night out,” Shepard says.

 

Joker agrees and watches his roommate for a few tense moments.

 

“I’m sorry,” Shepard mutters, so low, Joker barely hears him. “For… you know… last night.” 

 

“You don’t have to apologize for wanting to get laid, Shepard. It’s none of my business what you do.” 

 

“Oh… yeah… I guess you’re right.”

 

He’s surprised by the amount of sadness in Shepard’s voice, though somewhat mollified by the apology. 

 

“Still… I guess… I’m sorry all the same, Joker. I don’t know what’s been going on, but… I don’t want us to fight.” 

 

“Me either,” Joker sighs, deciding to give the man a break. His regret and disappointment is clear. Despite the fact that he’s no closer to getting a handle on his feelings for John Shepard, he isn’t quite ready to give up his friendship with the man. Living in this tense silence is draining, and he’s ready to see things return to normal. 

 

He looks over and catches Shepard’s eyes. The smile his roommate gives him is somehow pleased and hopeful and bashful all at once, and it flutters in Joker’s heart, making him think there may be more to Shepard’s feelings for him that he’d originally believed. Joker returns the smile and feels the weight of the past few days' contention slip from his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, but, Shepard feels terrible about it, and he promises never to do it again!! Pleaseforgiveme!!!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early because I'm travelling tomorrow, and if I don't get it out now, you'll have to wait till Wednesday! Heaven forbid! ;)

He finds Shepard in the garden, harvesting what is likely the last of the summer vegetables. They'd planted the ‘winter’ garden a month ago, mostly greens and root vegetables. Joker admits that, despite his earlier misgivings, he not only enjoys the fruits of their labors, he also enjoys the labor itself. There's something about getting his hands dirty that he's never taken the time to appreciate before.

 

The weather is getting cooler by the second it seems, and Joker zips his hoodie as he makes his way toward Shepard. John accepts the glass of water from his friend gratefully, swallowing it quickly and setting back to work. Now that Joker is here, he hands the picked vegetables to his friend rather than just placing them directly into the basket. It's something he always does – figures out ways to include Joker in whatever task he's currently working on. Maybe it's unconscious, maybe not, but Joker appreciates it nonetheless.

 

“ I’m uh, going to borrow a rover,” Shepard remarks casually. “Cortez promised me a favor, and the spot I typically hike at would be easily accessible by Mako. I thought you might want to head up with me. Get out of the town for a little while.”

 

“ Sounds good.” 

 

“ You ever been camping?”

 

The pilot snorts on his water, devolving quickly into a coughing fit as Shepard stands and gives him a few slaps on the back with just enough force to be helpful instead of harmful.

 

“ Camping?” Sarcasm drips from the man's lips, and Shepard laughs.

 

“ Yes, Joker. Camping. I also got a tent and some other supplies. I was planning to stay the night, but if you'd rather not...” There is an apprehensive note to the man's voice that tugs on his infatuated heart, and it's worse than if Shepard was giving him puppy-dog eyes – mostly because he can't imagine the Savior of the Galaxy giving  _ anyone _ puppy-dog eyes. Ever.

 

“ Yeah, alright. Haven't been camping since boot camp.”

 

Shepard's enthusiastic grin is heart-meltingly adorable, and Joker can't help returning it. “Great! I got you a special inflatable mattress to sleep on, and I don't mind giving you a hand if you need it.”

 

Joker's mind instantly goes somewhere inappropriate, but in his heart he knows that's not what Shepard meant. He decides to keep his commentary to himself. “So when do we leave on this excursion?”

 

Smearing dirt on his face as he scratches his cheek, Shepard checks his chrono. “Well, I have to go get the rover in half an hour. We could go tonight, but I'm not sure I want to risk setting up in the dark. What if we just head out around zero eight hundred?”

 

“ That means I don't get to sleep in.”

 

Shepard rolls his eyes. “Fine, ten hundred then.”

 

“ Deal.”

 

**

 

Joker wiggles around to get comfortable on the ground beside Shepard. They lean against a log that they'd rolled over by the campfire. He has to admit, he's having more fun than he expected. Nature has never really been his thing. Ships and video games are much more up his alley, but being here with Shepard changes his view of the experience.

 

Their little silent war several months ago had been the only one of its kind. They get along surprisingly well, though Shepard does bitch about dirty socks left in the living room and toothpaste in the sink a great deal. Joker's peeve about Shepard is the pile of study materials and sketch pads that are always taking up residence on the kitchen table. In the grand scheme of things, both their hang ups are somewhat trivial.

 

There haven't been any more nights wondering what, or who, Shepard is doing, either. Nearly everything either of them has done – aside from going to work – has been done together. Joker's not sure he's ever had a friend quite like John before.

 

Shepard jabs at their campfire with a stick, arm propped on his bent knee, and Joker can't seem to take his eyes off the man. “We should have a party,” John muses. “It's been a year since the war ended. A good reason to celebrate.”

 

“ Like that party back at the apartment.”

 

“ Yeah,” Shepard's smile is easy and free – beautiful.

 

“ You ever think of going to visit the Citadel? See whatever became of the place?” Joker knows it's a risky question, but he asks anyway.

 

“ Nah... I'm happy where I am... Unless you're ready to get rid of me?” There's a hint of trepidation in the question despite the warm smile on the man's face. Almost as though he can't stand the thought of leaving.

 

“ I'm happy where you are, too.” Joker's voice is so quiet as to almost be inaudible. It's so out of character that Shepard looks at him, appraising.

 

It's not the first time Shepard has looked at him that way, and god help him, Joker hopes it isn't the last. The way his eyes catch the flickering light from the fire is mesmerizing, and Joker finds himself unconsciously leaning forward. Destruction awaits, just like a moth to a flame, but he can't help himself. This crush – infatuation – has been driving him crazy for months now. He's so lost in his own jumble of nerves that he doesn't catch Shepard's movement – that John is leaning into him as well.

 

Their lips connect for the softest moment, and Shepard pulls back to look at him. Joker's all in at this point, however. He couldn't stop himself now if he tried. Their lips meet again, more purposeful, and after a surprised gasp, Shepard is kissing him back – deep and hot and hungry – like it's all he's been able to think about for the last six months. It's certainly all Joker has been able to think about.

 

Shepard pulls away, breath harsh and lips glistening in the light of the fire. Joker thinks it's the most beautiful he's ever been. He scoots a little closer, bringing a hand to the man's cheek. John leans into the touch, closing his eyes with a satisfied hum. “How long have you had feelings for me?” he whispers.

 

Joker sighs; nothing like cutting straight to the chase. “Pretty much since you moved in,” he confesses, trying to pull his hand away. Shepard stops him though, pauses like he's actually contemplating Joker's words. “Look,” Joker says, “I-”

 

He's stopped when Shepard's lips meet his again. It's slow and soft and sweet, and Joker feels more than a little guilty for how much he's missed this – human contact. He'd loved EDI, but she is gone, never coming back. Why should he pass up an opportunity at happiness when it presents itself? EDI wouldn't want him to; that much he knows.

 

Shepard's fingers slide into his hair, jarring his cap off his head, but neither of them pay it any mind. The kiss deepens, and Joker moans into Shepard's mouth when his other hand comes up to curl around the pilot's neck, thumb brushing against his trimmed beard. Joker's hand moves to Shepard's waist, gripping as tightly as he dares.

 

“ Me too,” Shepard says, breathless from the kiss. He shifts, pressing himself against Joker's side, and bringing their foreheads together. “I wish you would have told me sooner.”

 

Joker snorts. “Uh... you're supposed to be the daring hero. You could've damn well said something, too.”

 

John's brow wrinkles in something like pain as he closes his eyes. “I'm sorry, Jeff... I-”

 

“ No time for regrets, John,” Joker cuts him off, kissing him again.

 

Joker isn't sure where this is going to lead. He really doesn't want a quick fuck with Shepard. The man has been a friend and mentor since the day they'd met what feels like a hundred years ago. In fact, it's hard for Jeff to remember a time when Shepard wasn't in his life, and more than anything he doesn't want that to change. He's not interested in a friends with benefits situation either, because inevitably, those change. One or the other of them meets someone they're more willing to commit themselves to, and the one left behind loses not only a lover, but a friend, too. If they can't have something real, he doesn't want anything at all. Better to have Shepard as a friend than not to have him, but he has no idea how to go about telling the man that.

 

Sensing his sudden hesitation, Shepard breaks the kiss and meets his eyes. “What's wrong?”

 

“ I just...”

 

The silence stretches, and with every second that ticks by, Shepard's brow furrows more deeply. “Joker, I'm... We...” He sighs and leans back, dragging a hand down his face. “Look... I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have... but fuck, I really wanted to... Hell, I've wanted to for months now.”

 

“ Uh... Shepard, you're not making a whole lot of sense.”

 

“ I like you... damn, I want to be with you. I think about it all the time. It's... crazy.  _ I'm _ crazy, but Christ, Jeff, I think... I think I'm in love with you.” Shepard can't bring himself to look at the man's eyes, and Joker is quiet so long he begins to feel like a fool. “Shit! I'm sorry,” Shepard says miserably, burying his face in his hands.

 

Until now, Joker's been too busy staring into the fire, dumbfounded, to reply. “I'm in love with you too, Shepard,” he says quickly.

 

John peers at him, hesitant for the space of a breath before his lips are on Joker's again. He barely has time to respond before Shepard is pulling him over to straddle his lap. His hands roam Jeff's back as Joker cups the man's face, and he has to resist the urge to pinch himself. “Mmf... we... we should,” Shepard is moaning into his mouth, trying to form words around their lips, but it's nearly impossible. Finally, he breaks the kiss and pulls back. “We sh... we should slow down.”

 

“ We've been taking it slow for six months, John,” Joker huffs, kisses him again.

 

“ Fuck... I just-”

 

“ We've got that bed in there,” Jeff reminds him, “or hell, we can stay right here.”

 

“ Our first time together is not going to be in the dirt in the woods,” Shepard says, pulling back with a frown. “And that bed isn't made for two. I don't want to have to worry about rolling over and crushing you in my sleep.”

 

“ First off,” Joker snickers, “jeez you're a sap! Secondly, I'm not that damn fragile!”

 

“ I'd rather wait to test your fragility somewhere there's a bed and medigel... and access to medical services.”

 

“ If you break me while you're fucking me, Shepard, you may as well just let me die, because I am  _ not  _ going to the hospital with a broken ass!”

 

John laughs, burying his face in the pilot's chest and shaking helplessly. Joker's fingers comb through his hair – long enough to fall into his eyes and around his ears now.

 

“ You gonna keep growing this?”

 

Shepard shrugs, still laughing lightly. “Maybe. There are no regs telling me to chop it off, now.”

 

“ I like it,” Joker says, rubbing the soft strands with his fingertips.

 

“ Then I'm definitely keeping it.” Shepard's fingers slide up and down the man's chest, and he nuzzles Joker's neck, peppering it with little kisses. They curl themselves around each other, holding tightly with Joker's cheek resting on Shepard's head. Both of them are content like this, just being together. As much as John wants to take things a step further, he's a little nervous about exactly how fragile Joker might be. He knows the man isn't a virgin, but still feels the need for a little more preparation before they try anything more adventurous than kissing. Besides, they've waited this long. What are a couple more nights?

 

“ My ass feels like it's on fire,” Joker breaks the mood.

 

“ I haven't even done anything to you yet,” Shepard laughs, leaning back to let Joker move off his lap. The heat from the campfire is a little much this close, especially with the two of them wrapped around each other the way they were.

 

“ Funny,” Joker says, rolling his eyes, but a fond smile curves his lips. Shepard can't resist leaning in to kiss him once more.

 

“ What do you say we hit the sack?”

 

Joker snorts. “Such a charmer!”

 

“ I meant go to sleep, you ass!” Shepard declares, standing and hooking his hands under Joker's arms to lift him off the ground. They stand like that for a few minutes, Shepard's arms around his chest; Joker's back pressed tightly against him.

 

_ Damn _ , Joker thinks; he could really get used to this.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Hannah Shepard is on their porch when they arrive home the next day, and Joker will admit to himself that he's a little disappointed. He'd been looking forward to seeing if he and Shepard could consummate their new found relationship, but that's not going to be happening anytime soon.

 

Shepard lets them into the house and heads straight for the coffee pot to get it going. That instant crap isn't enough to satisfy any of them. Besides, neither he nor Joker can get by with less than a few cups each. Neither of them got much sleep last night. The cold, hard ground notwithstanding, they'd both been much too eager to talk rather than sleep. A nap snuggled against the Savior of the Galaxy had also been on the short list of the ways Joker had wanted to pass his afternoon, but that also gets put on the back burner for the moment.

 

“ Where have you two been?” Hannah asks as John scoops the grounds into the machine.

 

“ We went camping last night,” Shepard tells her.

 

“ Have fun?”

 

Joker thinks he sees John's ears turn pink and can't stop the grin that blossoms on his face. “Yeah,” Shepard admits after clearing his throat. “It was great. Uh... Joker, mom's going to teach me to play chess today. I'd almost forgotten.” There's something of an apology in his eyes, and Joker nods in understanding before Shepard has the chance to say he's sorry.

 

“ You know how to play chess,” Joker points out instead, dropping his rucksack on the end of the couch.

 

“ Mom's going to teach me how to  _ win _ at chess,” John amends, and gives Joker a new smile, one that the pilot had never seen before last night. It's soft and affectionate, and he knows it's just for him.

 

Hannah asks her son about work while Joker putters around with nothing to do besides trying to stay within earshot of mother and son. Shepard fills her in on the latest details. He's taken to his job better than Joker imagined he would. It had been hard to think of John as anything but a soldier, but civilian life has suited him rather well. Between the work he finds thrilling and his frequent trips into nature to sketch the things he's seen, Shepard is more relaxed and carefree than Joker has ever seen him. It's honestly a relief.

 

Six months ago, when Shepard had moved in, he'd been directionless and plagued with PTSD. After months of therapy and his anxiety medication, Shepard has healed considerably. There are still a few rare nightmares and panic attacks, but by and large, he has those things under control. He realizes he's staring at John when the man looks up and gives him a wink, which Hannah misses because she's busy studying the chess board.

 

Joker goes to pour them all a cup of coffee, and Shepard springs up to help him, standing a little too close to be casual. Jeff almost expects a kiss but doesn't get it. Instead, John's fingers brush his as he takes the coffee cups. Joker can’t suppress a shiver, and Shepard smiles at that before he heads back to his seat.

 

“ Have you met anyone... interesting at work?” Hannah asks as she sips her coffee. Joker stares at her for a moment, then abruptly turns away, crossing the room to retrieve his rucksack.

 

Shepard sighs, moving his rook and cursing when his mother promptly captures it. “I don't date co-workers, mom. You know that.”

 

“ You're not getting any younger, John, you know.”

 

“ Not during this conversation at least,” he mutters, standing to refill his coffee mug and keeping his back to his mother longer than is polite. “Really, mom, do we have to do this now?”

 

“ There's a pretty girl in R and D-”

 

“ No.”

 

“ She's a very nice girl, John. Intelligent.”

 

“ No.”

 

“ Far be it for me to want to see my only son happy,” she sighs. It's that voice that tells him she's not satisfied, that she wants a resolution to the topic right this minute. Shepard resists the urge to curse, and reluctantly turns to face her.

 

“ If you want me to be happy, then let me conduct my life as I see fit,” he states firmly. “I'm perfectly capable of finding my own dates. Besides, you know I prefer men.”

 

“ But you like women too, John. What could it hurt?”

 

Shepard draws a sharp breath in through his nose, exhaling slowly. Joker grins at him and slips down the hallway, and John swears there's a pep in the man's step that's never been there before. He mutters a low curse. “Please drop this,” he demands of his mother. “I really do not enjoy having conversations about my sexual preferences with you. It was hard enough coming out to you the first time.”

 

Hannah waves her hands in surrender, though she looks anything but happy. Joker doesn't make another appearance during their chess game, and his mother, thankfully, moves on to other topics of conversation for awhile. Just as she captures Shepard's king, she brings the conversation full circle, “Her name is Colette...”

 

“ Goddamnit.”

 

**

 

Later, Joker finds John sitting in their minuscule yard with his feet on a crate and sipping a beer. He passes one to Joker as the pilot takes the chair next to his, and once he's settled, Shepard reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together. Joker finds he could get very used to this.

 

“ So... the third degree on your relationship status. That's always fun.”

 

Shepard groans. “I swear. She's been bringing it up more and more lately. I think she's gearing up for the 'I want grandkids one day, John' spiel.” His voice goes up an octave as he mimics his mother, and Joker guffaws. John sighs. “I honestly don't want kids, but I don't know how to tell her that.”

 

Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, Joker says, “Yeah, I can't ever see me as a dad.”

 

“ You're too immature,” Shepard agrees, grinning madly when Jeff scowls at him.

 

“ Well you're the one who says he's in love with me. What does that say about your maturity level?”

 

“ Somebody's got to keep you on the straight and narrow. May as well be me.”

 

Joker blushes, and John leans over to kiss him quickly.

 

“ My mom was the same way,” the pilot says after a few minutes.

 

“ You never talk much about your mom,” John says quietly.

 

“ She died before I met you. An incurable genetic heart condition. One of those things that's too hard to pronounce, ya know?”

 

“ I'm sorry,” Shepard tells him, and his face is so sincere that Joker reaches up to stroke his cheek with a finger. “My dad died when I was young,” Shepard says. “Killed in action during a training exercise at the Villa.”

 

“ Your dad was an N7?”

 

“ N5 – never made it all the way to seven.” John sips his beer, fingers idly rubbing against Joker's knuckles. “I'm sorry I didn't tell her about us. I wasn't sure the time was right.”

 

“ It's cool,” Joker shrugs, sipping his own drink. “Honestly... I guess it's not the sort of thing to blurt out in idle conversation.”

 

“ I don't know. I already had the opening since we were talking about relationships and dating anyway. I should have just told her, but... well... I guess I just wanted to make sure that's the direction we're heading before we start telling people.”

 

“ Hell, I'm not going anywhere. At least not until I see what you're like in bed. It could be a deal breaker; I'm not gonna lie.” He smirks around the lip of his beer bottle while Shepard cackles.

 

The silence that settles over them is comfortable, and they both sigh in contentment, watching the sun sink over the horizon. “So... just how fragile are we talking?” Shepard asks, blue gaze catching Joker's emerald eyes.

 

“ You worried I won't be able to handle you?” Joker asks, smile wide and eyes glinting.

 

“ A little,” John admits honestly.

 

“ Maybe we should go give it a test run then? See if it's gonna work?”

 

Shepard laughs. “And you thought my seduction attempts were corny!” But he lets Joker lead him into the house by the hand, pulling him close as soon as the door closes behind them. Removing the man's hat, he tosses it across the room, earning an indignant, “Hey!” from Joker. Shepard chuckles, bringing their lips together as they move steadily toward his bedroom.

 

At the edge of the bed, they stop to catch their breath, taking their time to undress each other. Shepard slides his palms over Joker's exposed chest, sighing somewhere between relief and anticipation. Jeff reciprocates, working quickly to open Shepard's fly and palm him through his briefs.

 

John hisses a quiet, “Fuck.” His motions pick up speed until they're both naked, then he lifts the pilot onto the bed, crawling over him. He's careful to keep all his weight on his knees and hands, but Joker pulls him closer.

 

“ Just... go slow.”

 

Shepard nods, kissing him again, finger slipping down to press lightly against Joker's entrance. “You wanna?...”

 

“ Mmhm... lube?”

 

“ Nightstand.”

 

He moves to get it, but Shepard's lips and fingers all over his torso are a distraction. John laughs. “We don't have to.”

 

There's a groan as calloused fingers wrap around his erection. “Fuck,” Joker mutters. “I... I want to, just let me...”

 

Pausing to look into the man's eyes, John smiles. “Let me.” Shepard finds what he's looking for and flips the cap open, settling back on his haunches. Joker squirms a little as John's eyes travel his body, taking him in, but Shepard soothes him, running his hand up the man's thigh and belly then back down the other side. His palm smooths up Joker's dick, breath hitching in both their chests, then back down to roll his balls. Leaning down, John grips Jeff’s erection, flicking his tongue over the head before taking him in, and pressing a slick finger against his entrance.

 

He kisses his way up Joker's body, melding their lips as his finger slips inside. Joker hisses for just a moment before relaxing into the touch. “How long has it been?” Shepard asks with concern.

 

“ Long enough.”

 

“ Are you sure-”

 

Joker shuts him up with a kiss, reaching down to grip Shepard's dick, and all John's questions flit away in the wake of the pleasure he feels. He eases into the man when he's ready, moving slowly, careful not to put too much weight on him. Joker huffs and rolls his eyes. “You're not going to break me.”

 

It's Shepard's turn to silence his lover with his lips. They fall into a rhythm, bodies moving together, quiet moans filling the air. John braces himself with one hand while the other moves up to cup Jeff's cheek, then back down to stroke his hard cock between them, repeating the pattern.

 

“ John... I... I love you,” he whispers, and Shepard trembles against him.

 

“ I love you too, Jeff,” he responds, kissing the man over and over. His focus turns to stroking along with his languid thrusts, loving the way Joker's eyes roll back into his head, body arching toward him. Shepard speeds up, his fist and his hips.

 

“ Shepard, fuck... I-”

 

“ I'm close,” he murmurs against the man's cheek. “Want me to pull out or-”

 

“ Fuck no, don't you dare.”

 

With a huff of laughter, Shepard rolls his hips forward one last time, “Joker... fuck.” He gasps as he feels his lover's slick release on his hand just as his climax rushes over him, and they're left fighting for air, shuddering in the aftermath.

 

Joker grins up at him. “See! I told you I wasn't that easily broken.”

 

“ Duly noted,” Shepard says, catching his lips in one last kiss before he rolls over. Joker goes with him, tucking his head against John's chest then feels the man's lips against his forehead. “So... how did I rate?”

 

“ Meh... not bad... I'd do you again.” They're both laughing when Joker tips his face up for another kiss. “Good enough for me to keep you around for awhile... you know... if you wanted to start telling people we're together.”

 

“ Good to know.” John smiles brightly.

 

“ Uh... you do want to... you know... tell people, right?”

 

Shepard's face turns serious as he scoots around to be face to face with the man. Fingers rake through his reddish hair, thumb rubbing against his temple. “Jeff... I love you. I want everyone to know that.”

 

Relief washes over the pilot's face, and he presses a harsh kiss to Shepard's lips before they settle back into each other’s arms. John yawns, pulling the man a little closer as he starts to drift off. “Colette's going to be so disappointed,” Joker mumbles.

 

“ Goddamnit.”


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter of my little story. Thanks so much to everyone who has commented and kudos-ed and sent me messages on tumblr. I'm so glad y'all have enjoyed this story so much. I'm pretty proud of it, my first ever truly slow-burn fic. :) 
> 
> It's been a fun journey with these guys, and who knows, there may be more oneshots in the future. There are already a couple drabbles up on my blog [here](https://ellebeedarling.tumblr.com/post/167265725254/4-of-the-prompt-list-for-mshoker) and [here,](https://ellebeedarling.tumblr.com/post/166814653144/my-miniature-contribution-to-the-mehalloween) if you wanna check them out. 
> 
> Another big, heartfelt thank you to my beta, [sparkly_butthole!!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkly_butthole/pseuds/sparkly_butthole) I couldn't have done it without you!! 
> 
> Much love to you all,   
> Elle

“ Those still fit as well as ever,” Joker says from behind him as Shepard studies his reflection in the mirror. It feels a little wrong, since he's been retired for five years now, but his dress blues are still the only formal wear he possesses. Joker too. As he catches a glimpse of the man standing behind him, John sucks in a sharp breath.

 

“ You look damn good,” he says softly.

 

“ Well, that's a good thing, because I'm miserable as hell.” The pilot tugs at his collar to prove his point. “I can't believe Cortez and Alenko are going to this much trouble to get hitched. Why the hell couldn't they just elope and invite us all to a party afterward?”

 

“ It's their wedding, Joker. They can do whatever the hell they want. And we're their friends, so we're going.” He grins and pulls the man into a kiss while his hands slide down to cup his ass, giving it a small squeeze. “Besides, it's kinda nice to see you all dressed up like this.”

 

Joker grumbles some more but doesn't otherwise complain as they make their way out the door. His ears are pink from the compliment and the kiss, and John grins as he slides into the passenger seat of their car. 

 

Shepard is surprised at how happy it makes him to see something as simple as a wedding – to hear two people who'd suffered so much declare their undying love for one another. Since the war ended, he's grasped onto every shred of continuing life he can find. The war had changed him in so many ways, not all of them for the better, but seeing life go on around him had been crucial to his healing after years of non-stop fighting. 

 

Seeing one of the most important and beautiful signs of life playing out before his very eyes, he can't help but think of Joker. His attention is more focused on the man beside him than the ceremony, and he wishes he had his sketchbook to capture Jeff's face in this moment. John can tell his lover is just as affected as he is.

 

When he'd first boarded the Normandy years ago, if anyone had told him that one day he'd fall in love with her snarky pilot, he'd have laughed in their face. Now he can't imagine his life without the man. Joker seems to get him in a way that no one ever has before, and the truth is, this is the happiest he’s ever been in his life. Jeff spares him a quick glance when Shepard reaches over to take his hand. A brief smile flashes.

 

The reception is even more grand than the wedding itself, with a veritable feast followed by live music and dancing and an open bar. Steve and Kaidan are the very picture of love as they take to the floor for their first dance. When the band announces that anyone is free to join the couple, Shepard turns toward his lover.

 

“ Oh no,” Joker protests at once. “I can't dance for shit, and you're even worse than me!”

 

“ Come on! Humor me?”

 

“ Goddamnit! It's not fair when you look at me like that. You know I can't say no to that look!” Joker lifts his drink to his lips, muttering under his breath about “goddamn puppy eyes.” 

 

“ Why do you think I've taken the time to perfect it over the years?”

 

Joker rolls his eyes, but grudgingly lets Shepard lead him toward the dance floor. Their form is graceless, but they honestly don't care, both of them completely absorbed in each other. John watches the man's face for several long seconds and comes to an easy decision.

 

“ We should do this.”

 

“ Do what?”

 

“ Get married.”

 

Green eyes widen in surprise before his expression smooths into one of indifference. “I don't know,” he muses. “I still haven't really decided whether you're a keeper or not.”

 

“ You think you could do better?” Shepard's eyes twinkle with amusement.

 

“ Probably, I mean... to be honest, your skills in the bedroom could use a little improvement.”

 

Shepard barks a laugh, then murmurs, “That's not the impression I got last night. What with all that blabbering and begging me to-”

 

Joker's lips cut him off. “Yeah,” he says, pulling back to look into John's eyes. “Let's do it.”

 

**

 

John tiptoes to the kitchen to retrieve his sketchbook, then quietly returns to the bedroom. Joker is still snoring away, and he can't help grinning. The light from the bedside lamp isn't really enough for what he wants to do, but there's something about the glow it casts on the man's face that is too beautiful to resist drawing.

 

He sits at the foot of the bed, watching for a brief moment before he sets his pencil to the paper. Working quickly, lest Joker shift in his sleep, he captures his peaceful expression, illuminated by the soft light of the lamp. It's all he can do to finish the drawing, rather than crawling back up the bed to take the man in his arms and kiss him soundly. Instead, he concentrates on the curves of Joker's body, the sharp lines of muscle, the way the sheet drapes over his hip – drawing every part in perfect detail.

 

When he's done, he tosses the book aside and lies beside his lover again, propped on one elbow to study the man. Flecks of gray mar the red hair at his temples and in his beard. They're both getting older, but somehow that doesn't bother Shepard like it used to.

 

Since moving in with Joker five years ago, he's learned to look at life differently, learned to focus less on work and more on the things that he enjoys. Things that make him  _ human _ . His smile is wide as he thinks of those conversations he'd had with Joker back when he felt adrift and disillusioned, and how the man beside him had helped him find a better way to approach life.

 

Unable to resist any longer, he leans forward to press his lips to his lover's, grinning when the man stirs. “John?” Joker's voice is thick with sleep, his expression groggy, and Shepard is consumed with the sudden urge to draw this face, too – eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, and utterly perfect. “What are you doing?”

 

“ Admiring you.”

 

“ Can't you do that in the morning?”

 

“ I'll do it again in the morning,” Shepard promises, kissing him again, hand slipping under the sheet to trail fingertips along his hip.

 

“ Didn't get enough earlier?”

 

“ Never get enough of you,” he murmurs, nipping at Jeff's earlobe.

 

“ Well, better get over here then. You sure could use the practice.”

 

“ One of these days, you're going to bruise my ego,” Shepard complains, biting the man's lips in retaliation.

 

“ Please, you're the biggest stud in the galaxy. Even five years after winning the most insane war in the history of the universe, people are still throwing themselves at you left and right. I've got to do my part to keep you humble enough for your head to fit through the door every night.”

 

“ What would I do without you then?”

 

“ Be stuck outside with your huge head and ego, of course.”

 

“ You're such an ass!” Shepard's laugh turns into a moan as Joker reaches between them and takes him in hand.

 

“ You love me though.”

 

Shepard catches his eyes, bright green and glittering – his very own Emerald City – and the smile that lights Joker's face takes his breath away. His voice is ragged with desire as he whispers, “I definitely do.”

 

~End~

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my incredible beta [sparkly_butthole](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkly_butthole/pseuds/sparkly_butthole)! I appreciate your help with this fic as well as your friendship! xoxoxo
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [ellebeedarling](http://ellebeedarling.tumblr.com)
> 
> Much love,  
> Elle


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